


Elle's Story

by Cozygoma_1over



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Fingering, Foursomes, Moresomes, Multi, Oral, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 133,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3600150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozygoma_1over/pseuds/Cozygoma_1over
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering a pool of blood at work Elle contacts Sherlock Holmes to investigate, and they begin to investigate each other as a friendship blossoms into much, much more. With John Watson by his side, and Mary too, fun for four - then more - starts in Baker Street.</p><p>Lust or love? Only time will tell.</p><p>38 chapters, over 133,000 words: completed in August 2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The case

Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes smiled. He enjoyed seeing the effects of yet another pleased and happy client. Ms Lavinia Jensen had called upon his services to discover the whereabouts of her boss, the only other person in a small but well renowned London PR agency. After handling three quite high-profile cases, two of which involved celebrities in the news facing allegations of tax avoidance - neither case proved and therefore both very lucrative, Mr Michelson had disappeared like a thief in the night. All the signs to the untrained eye pointed to abduction, possibly even murder. Ms Jensen had contacted Mr Holmes to investigate for her after not hearing from her colleague then finding an horrific sight. 

"Thank you very much Mr Holmes. It did not make any sense to me that a man such as Colin Michelson should disappear so suddenly. I thought he was dead, after seeing that pool of blood. Now it all fits; the hidden documents, phones being slammed down in haste when I walked into the room, covert emailing from an account unregistered to the business. Who would have known? I don't know whether to be relieved or dismayed."

With the possibility of a grizzly murder to solve Sherlock Holmes had been in his element. Working with the Met, buzzing around the potential crime scene like an over-stimulated hornet, he was checking this, examining that, analysing all the different options one by one. Then he cracked it. After three days looking for a potential case-blowing clue, something his colleague Doctor John Watson had said in passing months ago came back to him about the ultimate way for a 'professional to make someone disappear'. Holmes suddenly started to look at the case as if Michelson had planned the whole thing. With a change of name, hundreds of thousands of pounds in off-shore bank accounts, and a new passport to aid him to make his escape, Holmes concluded Mr Michelson must be trying to flee the country, faking his own abduction or death in the process. 

With swift aplomb Holmes had requested all flights from Heathrow and Gatwick be checked for any man in his late fifties, travelling alone, to the Philippines, Malaysia or Hong Kong, one way with only carry-on luggage and a passport dated within the last six months. Seven men in the next 48 hours fitted all Holmes' criteria, two were found to be drug smugglers, and then there he was, Heathrow to Kuala Lumpur, Mr Michelson, now under pseudonym Mr Henry Stonebridge, escaping the cold early March evenings of London for the sunshine of Malaysia.

How had Mr Holmes deduced the abduction/murder was fake? Holmes had asked DI Lestrade if he could gather a few samples of the blood from the victim's office. On the premise he could get what he wanted himself without further contamination of the scene this was agreed. Through the powerful microscope at Bart's Hospital he had noticed there was something radically wrong with the red cells in some of his collections of blood. They had distinctly shattered. From this and other 'not interesting to anyone other than his inquisitive brain' anomalies he deduced the majority of the blood had been previously stored in a frozen condition then thawed and spread with some fresh blood to amass a pool large enough to convince the uninitiated of wrong-doing of one person to another. Holmes had concluded that as the blood was faked he should look into details considering Michelson as the perpetrator of his own disappearance and other factors fell into place.

With medium-length, curly dark titian hair Lavinia Jensen was a woman in her forties. Striking in appearance, quick-witted and mentally astute, there was something of familiarity about her to Sherlock. Intrigued by the client in front of him he spent far more time explaining how he had reached his conclusions to her than he realised he had on any previous occasion. 

Ms Jensen was overawed with this account and now, knowing her kind, generous and artful boss had been nothing less than a charlatan and a thief distressed her intensely. Back in 221B Baker Street Holmes had taken her through the breakdown of Michelson's misdemeanour, why those particular destinations had been targeted by his deductions, and most, but not all, of the other details of the case. She was fascinated. Asking about a dozen of the right questions she had let Holmes explain, rapt with full attention to both story and the ethereal man telling it.

On her eighth or ninth visit to Baker Street, to finally pay her bill, Ms Jensen eventually asked "Mr Holmes, would you allow me to show my personal gratitude by taking you to dinner this evening? I feel I would like to thank you for allaying my fears of a man I cared for and worked with for the past three years lying dead, and instead exposing him as a thief. I still cannot believe it!"

"Do you like Cantonese food?" Holmes asked. She answered in the affirmative. "There is an excellent Chinese just a few minutes' walk away from here. I remember taking John, err, my colleague Dr John Watson, there after working our first case together. They have superb Dim Sum."

"Sounds perfectly ideal, thank you," replied the lady.

Perhaps it was because his best friend was now a married man but it seemed to have been many months since Sherlock Holmes had eaten a meal in a restaurant with only one other person. He had been out many times in recent months with John, but when out with John now there was usually Mary also. He did not mind this in the slightest. He had grown to adore Mary. She made John so happy so he was happy with her company too. He, of course, would not count the occasional dining with Mycroft: one doesn't when it is a relative, especially an overbearing elder brother who always chooses the where and when regardless of the reason for their liaison. Fair enough though, he guessed, as he inevitably paid.

John Watson still worked alongside Sherlock wherever possible, but due to a particularly prevalent strain of winter norovirus, Dr Watson was working in his other guise as a locum whilst a number of the doctors at the practice he had worked at previously succumbed to the bug. Sherlock, however, missed him being there day to day and this period had been all the more difficult as cases had been scarce and the over-intelligent, over-active cerebral brain of Sherlock Holmes had accepted a 'possible' murder - more likely abduction - case, purely through boredom.

Nearly three hours later and well passed midnight Sherlock offered to take Ms Jensen ["Please call me Elle"] home. She explained she lived in a large town house in Kew with two girl friends and felt it was too late to travel that far tonight: she would stay at one of the lesser London hotels. On Holmes ["Please call me Sherlock"] asking about clothes and essentials Elle explained she carried her 'emergency pack' in her behemoth black tote bag for such occasions as laying over in the City, a regular occurrence due to her role, and because she frequented the West End regularly, and has ["I mean had"] a change of clothes at the office in case of accident or incident. As she no longer had an office or clothes to return to, thanks to the police turning the place inside out and taking all of its contents as evidence, that option had now been scuppered. She no longer had a job either.

Impressed with the organisation of this very intriguing woman Sherlock offered her the spare room in his place - John now lived in his marital home with Mary in Hampstead - so long as they could still sit and talk. This was accepted gladly and with a call to a late night Anderson's mini-mart store nearby, a bottle of Champagne and three bottles of fresh orange juice were bought, the pair of them returned to Baker Street.

Neither Elle nor Sherlock would be classed as heavy drinkers, outside an occasional glass of wine with a meal, so Bucks Fizz - leaning more in the way of Bucks than the fizzy bit - was the drink of the evening. Still talking to nearly dawn Sherlock had been relieved he had just finished a case as four o'clock had been and bade them goodbye long before the two separated to sleep.


	2. Q1 - the first great adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk around Kew Gardens and a very special way to warm up

Anyone seeing the couple first thing would have got the wrong impression. They wore the same pair of pyjamas. He the bottoms under his blue silk dressing gown, and her the shirt over her black undies. Elle was efficient and forward thinking but even she did not walk around with full night attire in her tote, although toothbrush, facial cleanser and moisturiser were there in her make-up bag. Around 10 in the morning the two halves of the pyjamas re-met in the kitchen. 

Elle had risen and went into the kitchen to make coffee and see if there was any food in the house, minimal but ample provisions in a most definite bachelor pad were there, at least availing toast and jam. Sherlock had risen to the smell of the Colombian beans fermenting through filter paper and joined her at the table. Both drank their coffee medium strong, black with two sugars.

Their conversation from the previous night, a bottle of Champagne and nearly two carafes of orange juice later, re-ignited on their meeting and again they sat and talked until Elle declared near midday she had better get herself off home.

"What will you do now your job has disappeared, along with your boss?" Sherlock asked attentively.

"Oh, I don't know. I am not in any hurry for further work at this time. Hopefully by the time this administrative PA stroke PR person is ready for another position there will be work in the market for her. I may temp; that is always interesting as you never know what you may be working on next. I did that for a long while, before meeting Colin Michelson. At one time I worked for both a construction company and the Met. I cannot remember which was more demanding but both were very engrossing - time passes so quickly. I have some friends still in PR - I might look in that area again. I do hate to be idle and bored."

"Could I see you again? Soon? I have really enjoyed your companionship" spluttered Holmes, he nearly as surprised at his own words as she was.

"Yes, Sherlock, of course. I would like that, very much. I have enjoyed your company too. The way you use your powers of deduction intrigues me. It is a brave new world for me to discover and understand." 

Just some 21 hours later a case-deficient, bored and lonely Sherlock had sent a text to Elle. 

S: Would u like to meet Kew Gardens, today, 11am? SH

L: Lovely - shall we lunch together? LJ

S: Yes. My treat. Victoria Gate entrance. C u there.

Just before 11am Elle found herself standing outside Victoria Gate at Kew Gardens, the anticipation of seeing Sherlock again making her tachycardic. As if time would not have allowed him to be late Sherlock appeared crossing the road towards Victoria Gate at 11 on the dot. She could not help but smile, as he came into view some distant clock chimed the hour. He greeted her with a handshake and a kiss on the cheek, then offered her his right arm and they walked into the Gardens together. Sherlock bought their tickets and, both wrapped in scarves, warm jackets and gloves, wearing casual clothes and comfortable footwear, Sherlock carrying a rucksack over his left shoulder, her the familiar tote over her right, they walked around admiring the spring bulbs. It may be March and calm, but the air was still bitterly cold. It was a sunny day though and the daffodils, tulips, hyacinths and various species of snowdrops were all at their best. It was too early in the year for the bluebells but the place looked spectacular as ever. 

With a regular roar of an aeroplane leaving Heathrow breaking the Spring silence, the two walked arm in arm and talked at length about absolutely anything, laughing and smiling as though they had been friends for a lifetime. Around 1pm they sat on a bench near a small pond, reasonably sheltered from the wind chill thanks to great gunnera plants close to where they perched. Sherlock reached into his rucksack and withdrew a flask of hot coffee, pre-sweetened (so handy they liked it the same) and a box of washed grapes. Elle laughed. 

Out of her tote came a box of washed grapes, and a flask. "I thought I would bring soup, then you could treat us to dinner later", she said smiling. They drank the hot Minestrone soup, then hit the coffee. Both boxes of grapes were untouched. It was cold after all, very cold.

Sherlock suddenly looked like a man with a lot on his mind. For the next hour or so he seemed distracted, though still very amiable. His mind seemed to be wandering. Elle surmised he would be thinking about a current case. Let's face it, a brain like his probably never totally switches off. More walking and talking and finally they made it around the capacious and stunningly beautiful grounds.

"Would you like to come back to my home to warm up?" Elle asked. "I live only ten minutes away."

"Good idea. I can deduce how someone has been murdered and when from a handful of obscure clues, but I failed to assess that just because it is bright and mid March it is not necessarily warm. Brrr." Something now seemed to definitely be on Sherlock's mind.

Staying within the grounds they walked around to Elizabeth Gate and Elle steered the pair of them to her town house, ten minutes walk away from the Gardens exactly, Sherlock noticed. As they entered the house just after 4pm and left their coats, scarves and gloves hanging in the hall, Elle went straight through to the kitchen and turned the central heating to ALL DAY, then made some more coffee. They sat in the lounge near a real-flame gas fire to warm. "Are your house mates around at all today?" Sherlock asked in an almost whisper.

"Yes, but later tonight, they are both off work today, attending a concert at the O2 Arena this evening. Bon Jovi" she added, drinking her coffee.

"Did you not want to go?"

"I would have but when the tickets were bought nine months ago I was supposed to be away in Paris with another girl friend this week. By the time that arrangement had to be changed - my friend Vivienne is currently in Cardiff, her mother is very ill - there were no tickets available in the same block, never mind the same row, I did not fancy sitting on my own. I know you are all fans but I wouldn't want to not sit with friends. Concerts are very much a collective thing, don't you think?"

"I don't know, I have never been. Elle, would you like to show me your bedroom?"

His voice was calm but breathless. Elle tried to keep the stunned look off her face at his lack of subtlety but knew she had failed. Sherlock leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth. Moving slightly away he looked abashed and dismayed at her, shocked and disbelieving, then smiled and raised his eyebrows as he stared into her eyes, his startling pale grey-green into her darker green-grey, clasped her wrist gently, pulled her closer to him and kissed her for a second time. This time she responded in kind. She kissed him gently too, then with more vigour as lips entwined and arms wrapped around each other.

When this kiss finally passed she took hold of Sherlock's hand, both rising from the settee together, flicked her eyes coquettishly at him, then led him upstairs towards the bedrooms. Hers was a bright spacious room, with one ceiling light off-centre close to a large window. The room was painted in soft sage green and cream, with apricot coloured duvet and pillow cases on a kingsize bed, and a dark green throw over the bottom end which matched her curtains.

A green, black, white and cream striped carpet covered the floor, with a square dark green and black floral printed deep-pile rug aside the bed, the wardrobe doors and the dressing table in the corner were pale natural oak. A beautiful deep green upholstered winged back chair sat in the darkest corner. On the wall behind the bed head were three handsome black and white photographs. All this detail Sherlock had analysed and registered before completely crossing the threshold.

He leaned in again towards Elle for more kisses. Her response was open, his kisses were deep, soft and undeniably emotional from a man who, she had believed from his press, lacked this human trait more than any other, other than possibly humility.

"Make love with me" he spluttered, a slight croak in his voice from the anticipation of what may transpire. Again he looked as surprised as she that the words had come from him. Without saying anything, Elle turned a bedside light on low, then closed the dark curtains. She faced him and pulled off her pale lilac v-neck cashmere jumper, revealing a cream camisole of satin over a black underwired bra. He could see the underwires over the years had performed their job admirably as her breasts resembled bountiful soft globes of flesh, beautifully rounded, a look more associated with the fake silicone implanted kind. 

Sherlock moved over to her and helped lift her camisole over her head. Kissing her throat he dropped down the straps off her shoulders but bungled the unclipping of her bra. She helped, with a feeling of utter exhilaration: it was nice to know there was something he was not totally adept at. 

Just what kind of lover would Sherlock Holmes be? This stunning but androgynous-looking creature? As her bra fell away to the floor Sherlock cupped one breast with the gentlest of touches and lowered his head to kiss the flesh and squeezed the nipple between his lips. It hardened to his touch.

Elle put her hand under his chin, raised him up to full height, they both removed his jumper, then she kissed him as she unbuttoned his shirt. Immaculately pressed his light grey silk shirt revealed a body so astonishingly white it seemed to have an inner glow about it. Not a blemish or mark could she see on first viewing, even hair dared not to show itself on his marble-like chest. She ran her hand up his body. One pale mark near centre right of his torso was the only curiosity and out of place blot on this otherwise perfect landscape.

Elle moved close to kiss Sherlock's neck now. There! At last she had indeed found a natural blemish on this shroud of virgin-like skin: on his throat was a dark mole, and a further two more - vampire-bite spaced - under his collar, then around his neck another small gathering of tiny marks. She treasured the thought of each of these, especially when she followed his gaze to her breasts which, though never tanned, had blood spots on them, which came from she knew not where or when, but had been on her skin as long as she could remember. Then her eyes closed as she remembered something. Each lover unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped their own black jeans, both kicking their footwear and socks away towards the wardrobe as the trousers fell.

Elle looked at Sherlock as he stood in black boxer briefs in front of her, his shirt now removed, she in black high-waist lace-edged knickers that covered to her navel. With a glance to the bed she threw open the duvet and slipped underneath. Sherlock slid in beside her, pulling the duvet back up over them. Noting her mattress was of a hard, memory-foam construction, he sidled down the bed slightly and returned to the pleasure of kissing and caressing her breasts. His index and middle finger then moved down her body to her navel then just below into the top of her undies. He stopped, lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes, which had reopened on his stopping. There was a question in them which he did not need to put into words, he had found what she had just been remembering; her body was badly scarred.

"I had an ovarian cyst removed last year" she gabbled quickly and nearly apologetically. "Too big for keyhole surgery so had to have a laparotomy. It healed too fast and feels like a zip. I ended up having a total hysterectomy in case there were any cancerous cells - there wasn't", she finished. An explanation for this vertical scar and, there, the potential conundrum about contraception vanished.

"Poor you", he said, tracing the line of her scar from fractionally below her navel to near her pubic bone. Whether by accident or purpose she was unsure but he had gently grazed her clitoris with his little finger, which had made her tummy muscles tighten and sink involuntarily. His index finger hooked through the leg-hole of her briefs and he had banished them off her hips in a most fluent move. She caught the waistband with the toes of one foot and whisked them the rest of the way off herself, kicking them out from under the duvet to the floor. She was now naked to him. In the meantime he was kissing her throat then back to her mouth again. His fingers intuitively re-finding her scar.

As Sherlock paused for breath she moved slightly away from him and she disappeared below the duvet. Lying on her right side beside him she ran her left hand down his near perfect torso to the waistband of his briefs. He moved to lie flat on his back. Lifting the duvet a few inches with her head her eyes looked for his as if asking permission to continue. His eyes were tightly closed though, anticipating her next touch. She would know, she thought, because he would either stop or help her remove his briefs. This had been his idea after all. As she tucked a thumb inside his waistband he automatically took his weight on the back of his shoulders and his feet, lifting his pelvis a fraction leaving a gap to slide away the last piece of clothing between them. Prising the waistband from his waistline she pulled gently downward revealing the first smatterings of hair running in a near plumb perpendicular line from his navel to his pubic bone, where the hair filled out, curly, dark, coarse.

Rolling a few pubic hairs between thumb and index finger she let her left hand see what her upward averted eyes could not. She was still looking for a facial reaction. Her toe caught in his briefs this time and she caressed them away from his lower limbs and out from under the duvet to join hers on the floor. His face was calm with a near serene expression upon it. She slinked her body down the side of his, tracing a route in kisses from his nipples to his navel. His tummy made an involuntary dip at this. Sliding her tongue slowly into his navel she ran it around the rim whilst her fingers delicately walked across his pelvis until they bumped into his erect shaft.

Both lovers sighed at the same time. He at her touch, so gentle and exquisite on a part of his body now yearning for her, her at the pleasure of finding her quest. Using her right arm as leverage she moved further down the bed, low enough to touch the base of his shaft with her tongue then let it glide towards the head, which she kissed. He sighed again, stronger this time. Carefully gripping his form near its root she guided the head again to her lips, pulling back his foreskin gently, licking him this time, sensuously, erotically then, once dampened from her tongue she licked her own lips to coat them with the saliva lubricant she needed to slide her mouth down. This was a new sensation to him.

Another sigh, no, that was more of a groan. "So that's what that feels like" he breathed. Again she danced her tongue around the head then took a little more of him into her mouth. Six or seven times she did this creeping down until finally taking nearly half of his length, gripping him with her lip-shrouded teeth and sliding back to the tip. Another loud groan had been expelled by her lover. Eager to go again she felt a hand touch her. Not to hold but stop her. She could feel his heartbeat through his stomach now, echoing fast throughout his body. Taking hold of her hand with his he released her grip on him and pulled her upwards. Using her feet as anchors she shuffled herself back up the bed so their heads and eyes were again level. "That was amazing" he whispered.

A gentle nudge, then a kiss, and he rolled her off her side on to her back and he was now on his side gliding his right hand unceremoniously passed the scar he had been so fascinated by only minutes earlier to her labia and clitoris. His fingers seemed inexperienced in this environment but they instinctively wandered gently investigating her clitoris then, sliding between the labia he slipped a long middle finger delicately inside her and found her swollen, engorged with blood, and damp. Now a deep intake of breath from her. His lips touched hers and the two pairs linked together, his tongue lazily infiltrating her mouth. Following the lead from his finger he pressed the head of his cock between her labia and found target first time. 

Elle sighed, her open eyes closing as her mouth burst into a smile of pure ecstasy, her fingers in his hair. Pulling back again slightly he re-pressed his hips closer towards hers. There was definitely an audible sigh that time, but that had come from her. Back and then slightly deeper he slowly and exactingly manoeuvred his body within her. He was so controlled, so precise in his actions. As the couple became more heated her mouth finally opened in earnest and made a noise that was not just a sigh. 

A loud moan of pleasure escaped her lips. That was obviously the cue he had been unconsciously awaiting as his strokes within her became longer and deeper, then gradually quicker and less precise. She could feel the air being aspirated out of her lungs as his weight pressed upon her. Her breaths were short and shallow now. Her inner walls were involuntarily squeezing him. She was so pleased she had kept up her Kegel exercises long after her last relationship had ended over four years ago. 

Four years? Was that right? Had she really been without a lover that long? She had been content not having a man around; she had been both pleased and relieved she had been brave enough to take herself most definitively off the market just under three years ago when her house mates were looking eagerly and seriously for boyfriends. Yet here she was, in the throes of one of the most sensual sexual encounters she had ever had, hoping Bon Jovi would overrun tonight. 

Her body was suddenly swallowed by orgasm. She could feel nearly every individual pore on her skin overheat and exude sweat, her heart rate increased rapidly yet the air she was able to take into her lungs reduced significantly to barely a gasp. Her internal muscles were squeezing him uncontrollably. Tightening her legs around his hips she tipped her pelvis forward, enabling her to take him in deeper than ever. Surprised, she reached orgasm again and as her senses enflamed her focus moved sharply to the man within her; he was triggering sensations she had never felt before. 

His body was starting to quiver all over now. Glistening beads of sweat shone like diamonds on his marble form. He no longer controlled the rhythm of their dance; it had intensified to short, fast, powerful thrusts. Perspiration loomed from beneath his glossy dark brown curls, occasionally splashing down on her face or breasts. Her body tensed yet again, squeezing and igniting his fire - a third orgasm for her. Then, close to the noise of a lion's roar, he released all the air, power and seed within him.

His neck weakened and head fell forward. His eyes glazed, his body wracked from exhaustion of the moment. His arms collapsed at the elbows, they could no longer support his weight, and he dropped on to his side beside her, still entangled between her legs, still inside her throbbing walls, her arms stroking him, holding him.

Neither wishing to break the intimacy, she opened her eyes to find his open and only inches away, a smile on his lips, those beautiful eyes sparkling more than ever. Cuddling into his neck she could feel his heart pounding against her body. He rested more on his back. They stayed like that for about twenty minutes, not talking [he had murmured "Oh my God!" earlier!] but occasionally exchanging kisses and him stroking her hair, her his face or chest, as slowly their heartbeats returned to something like normal.

"Wow", she whispered finally, "that was incredible" and stifled a mini giggle at the stupidity and inadequacy of her statement. "I think it is fair to say I have most assuredly been screwed!" Her face rubbed delicately against his as she planted the softest kiss on his cheek.

"And for the second time this month, if you think about it [Sherlock was back in Sherlock mode]. Your boss was the first, financially anyway, remember? Sorry you now understand what he had done, but at least it was him and his larcenous ways that brought us together in the first place."

"Always the truth, clearly and precisely, all the facts, no swaying from the ultimate detail. You amaze me Sherlock. Your brain is so incredibly fascinating." As she was teasing him, she kissed his forehead then his mouth, smiling.

"Thank you. I'm pleased to know it's my brain you like so much" he sighed, grinning. "Could I use your bathroom please?"

"Of course. Next door to your left."

Sherlock pulled away from her and headed for the bathroom, naked. He found it was a wet room about half the size of Elle's bedroom. White tiled and showroom clean it entailed a toilet next to a sink on the wall in front of a window. Grey slate surrounded a capacious double length fully-enclosed cubicle with adjustable rainfall shower head and additional hand shower-in-one along the opposite wall. A tall cabinet stood in the farthest corner from the door. Half a dozen LED spotlights availed light if required. A couple of ladder-style towel rails heated the room and under tile heating below more slate negated the cold feet feel - a winter morning's dread. A narrow-depth mirror cabinet near the door reflected the bright sparkle in his eyes and the smile and release on his face. 

He turned on the shower and waited for the water to reach temperature before going in and sliding the glass door behind him. Shampoo, conditioner and body wash were all in a row in a rack hanging over the cubicle side. An extractor fan kicked into life. "Can you find everything you need?" Elle called through the door after knocking.

"Thank you, yes." he replied just after soaking himself and before realising there were only a couple of rolled white hand towels in the room he could spot. "Why don't you come in and join me? The door is not bolted. I could do with more..." 

"Towels?" Elle finished his sentence walking in with two large and two smaller dark green towels, hanging them over the towel rail on the door side of the room. Sherlock was under the rainfall shower, eyes closed, face turned up to the shower letting it rinse the last remnants of conditioner off his head and down his torso. Sliding the door open then quickly closed not to release all the warm steam Elle joined him in the cubicle. 

His eyes found hers, then dropped to her breasts, her nipples were erect from the pummelling of the water. He kissed her lips passionately then bent his head and suckled on one of her nipples at length, finally re-raising his eyes to hers in a child-like sheepish way, with a cheeky grin to match, a soft kiss of thanks grazing her cheek. "Two can play that game!" she purred.

Elle lowered herself to her knees in front of him and took the length of his flaccid shaft into her mouth, cupping and gently squeezing his balls at the same time, feeling the former gorge to a hardness she had so recently encountered, now within the perimeter of her lips. Sherlock leaned against the shower wall, head dropped, watching her, then his head and eyes raised skywards in pleasure. After a few minutes he pulled on her wet mane to remove her mouth from his body. "Anyone who thinks a woman gives a man a blow job solely for his pleasure is most truly mistaken" she stated straightening up smiling.

"Again?" he questioned, breathlessly.

"Again" she agreed, nodding.

No subtlety, no further foreplay this time. She had re-ignited his desire and this time sensuality had been surpassed by animal instinct. Grasping her right wrist in his left he stretched her arm high above her head. Catching her left in his right he put that up there as well and clamped both her arms at the wrist together by one strong left hand. Guiding her around and backwards until she was pinned against the shower wall he re-entered her with one elephantine thrust of his body. He angled the shower head so it kept the pair of them directly under its flow. Trapped between wall and man Elle orgasmed uncontrollably as she felt every throbbing movement as he drove himself hard and fast into her, both then climaxing simultaneously only minutes after this second encounter had started.

Pulling away immediately this time Sherlock rinsed down again then exited the confines of the steamy cubicle leaving Elle to complete her shower. He wrapped a large green towel around his waist, then took a smaller towel, dabbed water droplets off his chest then sponged his hair removing most of the water as he went out of the wet room back to his abandoned clothes. By the time Elle had showered, washed and conditioned her hair then towelled off some of the water and headed into the bedroom herself Sherlock was just finishing dressing, tucking his light grey, now slightly ruffled, shirt into his black jeans and putting on his dark trainers whilst sitting on the edge of the bed, his jumper in hand.

"Wow, Sherlock, what have you done to me? I have never had such strong orgasms before."

"What have I done to you? What have you done to me? You are amazing; you have turned a near virgin into some sort of animalistic trojan." There was a slightly nervous laugh to his voice.

Elle, looking enquiringly whilst towel-drying her own hair asked "What is a near virgin?"

"I recall having sex a few times in my late teens, but at the time found the pleasures of the brain more appealing and satisfying. Outside that I have not been with anyone since; closest was last year - a bridesmaid at John's wedding, but that was so I could get her on side to allow me into a building to help me solve a case and we didn't... I was not attracted to her. A lot of good that did me anyway - that office was where I was shot." His fingers unconsciously hovered over his shirt above that indistinguishable mark Elle had spotted on her travels down his body earlier.

"Shot! When? Why?"

"I will tell you some time. Anyway, get dressed. If I remember the more gentle part of our day together I still owe you dinner! Do you know of any recommendable eateries around Kew, or should we make our way back towards the City?"

"There are some great restaurants here, all kinds, a favourite of mine is a lovely Italian on Kew Road, superb pasta if you have the appetite for it. Lots of choice. Alternatively we could go into the City. Do you want me to come back with you this evening then?"

"Yes. Why not? You are no longer working and are going to be alone most of tonight thanks to Mr Bon Jovi, and I am going home to an empty flat and am also not working thanks to just concluding a most interesting case for an extremely agreeable client." With these words Sherlock grinned inclining his head.

Twenty-five minutes later Elle and Sherlock left the Kew town house. She sent a text to her two house mates saying she was going to stay in the City with another friend, hoped they enjoyed the gig, not to expect her and she would be in touch very soon; packed her tote with a few changes of clothes, plus nightwear, refreshed her 'emergency pack'; removed the now empty flask [which she rinsed] and the untouched grapes [left out for her friends with a post-it saying 'Help yourselves'], and grabbed her coat, gloves and scarf and followed Sherlock out the door.

A beautiful Italian meal later, they found themselves fully sated, gastronomically at least, riding in a cab towards Baker Street, kissing, laughing and talking as though they had been lovers for years.

Within moments of being in Sherlock's Baker Street flat, they were again in bed together, his bed this time, kissing, touching, stroking, anything to stimulate the senses of the other. A thirty-five minute long love making session, culminating with a further orgasm from him and another series for her, saw the conclusion of their first consummation at his home. Both drifted into dreamless sleep, still enjoying the warmth of the other's body, each contouring to the other as either of them moved.


	3. The plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock make arrangements for the long Easter bank holiday

John Watson's skills as a doctor would never come into question, but one person he had never learned to fathom or read was Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes.

They had been working regularly together for over a month after Sherlock's relationship with Elle had blossomed, and John was still none the wiser. He thought there was a "different air" and even, frighteningly, more confidence in Sherlock's demeanour and body language recently but nothing that hinted any major upheaval in his life. After another long night working alongside DI Lestrade on a murder case involving the Thames Valley Constabulary as well as the Met, and severed body parts strewn across England's home counties, John asked whether he could stay at 221B as he was tired and Mary was away visiting a relative, so he would be returning to an empty house.

"Of course John, there will always be a place for you - and Mary - at Baker Street. Let's pick up some dinner en route as I am hungry but don't particularly want to eat out. It would be great to spend the evening in company."

"I hope we are not going to be out all day and night tomorrow too" said John. "Mary is planning to be back home. It is Easter already. Where has this year gone?"

"I don't know John. Easter... I have a feeling that bit of forensic evidence I found on the severed edge of the woman's arm is going to be key to solving this case. It seems extremely significant, I don't know why, as yet, but I expect a call from Lestrade saying they are following a new lead and don't require our services."

"I hope so. I have been meaning to take Mary out for a meal for weeks now but we never seem to get it together. It is becoming so we have to make an appointment just to see one another."

The men walked into 221B Baker Street with a non-take away take away from Sherlock's friend Angelo's restaurant. With a glass or two of white wine and the beautiful carbonara in their systems, the subject moved from work to John to Mary then to Sherlock.

"Mary and I have not had a meal out with you for a long time. What do you think Sherlock, would you like to join us tomorrow if I can book a table somewhere a bit special? Mary would love to see you I am sure. And it is Good Friday."

"You don't want me as gooseberry on a meal out with your wife if you have to book an appointment with her! We can always arrange something soon. That would be very nice. Actually... if you cannot get into any restaurants at this late juncture John, how would you and Mary like to come here for a meal tomorrow evening? We could all talk and both of you stay over for the whole of the long weekend, really relax together, if you have not arranged anything else?"

"That sounds a better idea anyway Sherlock, thank you. I am sure Mary would be delighted. I will text her just to make sure there are no other plans, so long as you are sure we won't be working...?"

"I'm sure." Both men picked up their mobiles and sent quick texts. In a matter of moments each had received a reply. Sherlock then sent another message and smiled.

"Everything ok?" asked John after confirming Mary's positive answer.

"Yes, just expecting PING ah, this. Good. That is settled then, you and Mary come for dinner tomorrow evening here around 7 and stay over Easter. We can all have a drink or two."

Having firmed up their plans for the following evening, both men retired to their rooms.

Sure enough a phone call Friday morning to Sherlock's mobile confirmed his forensic evidence had given the force a clear lead, and felt it would be unnecessary for him or John to be on call. Thanks for their help were liberally given, wishes for a good Easter, and early insight on the next juicy case lacking explanation promised.

John left Baker Street shortly after breakfast and said he and Mary would be back at 7pm that evening.


	4. Easter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Watsons meet Elle and discover a new side to Sherlock.

"You ought to have asked Sherlock if he wanted anything bringing when we go" said Mary. "Will he be cooking? Did you not say Mrs Hudson had gone to spend Easter to be near her brother who's in hospital in Kent? Poor Sherlock, he was obviously going to be alone. It will be great for you both to spend some non-work time together again."

"I don't know if he's cooking Mary. He obviously has something planned. Perhaps he will have ordered something in. I will text him though, in case he needs anything."

J: Do u want us 2 bring anything when we come over? JW

S: Pls pick up 6 bags sweet oranges. Nothing else, thanks SH

"Six bags of oranges - what the hell does he want all those for? A sticky twist on Cleopatra's milk bath?"

"Don't know John, but if it is a mistake it will be funny. Better take them then at least you can show him his own text if it is wrong. I think we should take some chocolates and Champagne too, as it is Easter. I wonder what we will be having for dinner?"

Moments prior to 7pm John and Mary arrived at Baker Street via taxi laden with oranges and weekend bags. John had still got his own key to 221B but as he no longer lived there was reluctant to let himself in. He rapped on the door and Sherlock's feet were heard as he skipped down the stairs.

"Hi John, hi Mary, come on up." The Watsons climbed the stairs behind him to a beautiful smell of fresh cooking. "Happy Easter. Bring those oranges into the kitchen will you? I will squeeze some later. Would either of you like a glass of wine? Shiraz or Merlot? Oh, thank you." The two good friends shook hands in the kitchen and the incomer had passed over the Champagne gift.

Mary kissed Sherlock on the cheek and went into the lounge to drop her handbag beside John's usual chair and put the gift of chocolates on a table. The bags of the guests were in the hall waiting to be taken upstairs later.

"Merlot for me please Sherlock. Mary? Merlot?" Mary nodded in the accedence. "Both Merlot thanks. What is for dinner? It smells delicious."

"Spatchcock chicken with new potatoes, spring vegetables and a red wine sauce" replied an unfamiliar female voice.

"John, Mary" Sherlock smiled, "I would like you both to meet Elle Jensen. Elle, these are my best friends, Dr John and Mary Watson."

"Hello John. Pleased to meet you, Sherlock has told me so much about you. Love your blog. Hello Mary, lovely to meet you too at last." Elle had shaken their hands in turn. "Hope you both are hungry. I think we went a little OTT with the vegetables."

Sherlock rejoined the group having walked over to the kitchen counter to pour four glasses of Merlot. John glowered at him but half smiled exasperatedly having realised although Shiraz had been offered as an alternative, no bottle was open on the top with the Merlot to breathe.

The reason for John's initial glowering however became self-evident. "Pleased to meet you too Elle." He looked quizzically at her then flashed his eyes in Sherlock's direction. "Unfortunately my best friend has not told me a thing about you."

"Elle was a client of mine a month or so back when you were on doctor duty. We really hit it off over the period of the investigation and have been spending some time together." There was nearly an apology in Sherlock's voice as he regaled the detail whilst placing the filled wine glasses on the table at four settings John had overlooked.

"Please sit and we'll eat", Elle said as she unfurled aluminium foil off the platter containing a quartered spatchcock chicken. A bowl of steaming hot minted new potatoes arrived next, then a tureen containing the spring vegetables, and finally a gravy boat of red wine sauce.

The four each served themselves, clinked glasses and ate heartily. Everything was cooked to perfection and the conversation drifted away from food to work, Mrs Hudson, London, etc.

"There is a dessert" said Sherlock. "I even helped make it!" he added proudly.

"Of sorts" responded Elle half-laughing. "It is only a lemon sorbet to clear the palate for coffee and chocolate mints later. There's cheese if you would prefer, or we could make something else if anyone is still hungry." Three words of dissent were said at once with only John making any further comment.

"No, thank you. A bit of sorbet will be more than enough. The chicken was lovely."

"Go over to the lounge and I will bring them through."

"I will help you clear" offered Mary.

"Thank you."

The girls in the kitchen, guys in the lounge, lots of chatter started as the girls began to learn more about each other and John interrogated Sherlock for not at least hinting there was a lady in his life.

"Elle is a very unusual name. Very pretty too. Is it short for anything?"

"Yes" replied Elle to Mary as they cleared the table between them, loaded the dishwasher and Elle removed the sorbet from the freezer to soften so it could be served into the four small glass bowls she retrieved from a cupboard. "My name is actually Lavinia, but having gone through school being called 'Lav', which you understand I absolutely hated with a passion, I started introducing myself as Elle."

"Very unusual" Mary reiterated. "Why not shorten your name to Vinnie or something like that?"

"I guess because that could be shortened again. A couple of highly attention-seeking boys at college used to call me Vin so I rapidly went off that as well. Also my best friend from school and college is called Vivienne, Vin and Viv, so close, we were always getting caught out."

"Will you be staying all weekend? Do you live locally?"

"I have a town house in Kew which I share with a couple of girl friends, but I intend to stay here throughout Easter; they will be coming and going with their boyfriends over the Easter weekend."

Finally the question Mary had wanted to ask from first meeting Elle about an hour and a half earlier sprang to her lips. "Where will you be sleeping?"

"With Sherlock of course" she said without a flicker of embarrassment, then an explanation. "The first night I stayed here I slept in John's old room, but ever since, whenever I stay we sleep together."

"Sorry, knowing Sherlock as I do I have to ask, are you lovers?"

"Yes. Of course! I have never known such chemistry with someone before and we enjoy each other's company as well as the sex side of things. He really is quite extraordinary." Elle smiled then looked a little awkward. Had she said too much to a woman she hardly knew? Perhaps Sherlock would be annoyed if he knew what she had said, but making love with Sherlock was so easy to her she found it difficult to understand the sheer surprise.

The sorbet had softened enough to scoop neatly now, so that was what Elle did into four bowls. In the meantime whilst talking to Mary she had put the filter coffee machine on, recounting in her head the shared pyjamas meeting in the morning for coffee and toast, and the only night she stayed here without making love with Sherlock. 'I wonder whether he will want to make love tonight, with guests in the house?' Elle silently thought as she collected the last two sorbets and followed Mary into the lounge wearing a slightly expectant smile on her face.

"What? Thank you. What are you thinking about?" enquired Sherlock noticing the smile and the glint in her eyes as she passed him his sorbet and spoon.

"Oh, nothing in particular." Just a little white lie. She was sure she would tell him later.

Twenty-plus minutes passed whilst they all enjoyed the fresh sorbet then Elle and Sherlock rose out of the settee together to take the bowls away and go and pour the coffee. As soon as they left the lounge John said to his wife, "Has she told you they are sleeping together?"

"Yes. Elle said they were. Did you not notice anything that might have made you think he was involved with someone? Look, he can't keep his hands off her." They both watched as Sherlock stood behind Elle, took her tightly in his arms and kissed her neck whilst she passed him some mugs out of a cupboard, turned and returned his embrace, including a fiery kiss.

"No, nothing. Some Consulting Detective's consultant I am! He said absolutely nothing, not even today when making plans for tonight. For over a month, he said. Perhaps he did not want to jeopardise the relationship before he knew how or where it was going?"

"Maybe. Here they come with coffee, Sssh" whispered Mary. "Coffee, umm, thank you."

After coffee and chocolate mints Sherlock spread himself out a little more on the settee whilst Elle happily sat on the floor leaning against the same sofa. He would occasionally unconsciously touch her hair, or just twist a finger through its soft curls. John and Mary squished together in what had become John's chair, happy to be close to each other and happy to be voyeurs of the new couple.

Light-hearted, jovial conversation ensued. It was obvious to Sherlock the Watsons both liked Elle, and she them. Sherlock felt it had been a good Friday! It was a generous two hours plus into Saturday however when the friends agreed on a 10am breakfast, and separated to retire.

In their room Sherlock and Elle were soon in bed. Resting her head on his chest, listening to the strong rhythm of his heart, Elle could feel the contented nature of her beau. Turning her face slightly she kissed his throat gently, once, twice but before her lips could return for a third, Sherlock had changed their position so their lips would meet. With his hand in her hair he kissed her so passionately it felt as though his soul could transfer between them. As their lips separated her eyes opened to see such desire in the pair they reflected. Nightwear was loosened and peeled away in the process of touches becoming caresses, breaths becoming gasps, and two becoming one.

The sex act had begun, but this was so much more: this was true love making. No movement too strong, no reaction too extreme, her 'animalistic trojan' as he referred to himself once so early in their sex life together was sensitive, endearing and tamed. They changed position so she was lying on him but the passion remained the same: she controlling the movement below their waists, sliding up and down his length, but the pivotal roles of this was the kissing, the stroking, the eye contact and the smiles between the lovers. Time passed unnoticed, they enjoying every second together. Highly sensitised from the moment he was within her, her vaginal walls were concertinaing around him, orgasmically pulsating as she looked to see his facial expression change from love to ecstasy. She smiled widely.

"There it is again" he panted. "That same glint and smile you had earlier when you came in from the kitchen with Mary. What is it? What are you thinking?"

"Then I was wondering whether you would want to make love tonight, with guests in the house. This one is because now I know the answer." She sighed, smiled again and snuggled up to him.

With her head on his shoulder they fell asleep with their bodies entwined, awaking to a 9:15 alarm lying in spoon formation, she curled behind him, her face nestled against his back. Sherlock turned off the alarm, sat up, turned and kissed his lady, then rose from the bed, throwing on his robe and headed into the bathroom. She heard the shower. Tempted to join him she remained resolutely in bed until he appeared drying his face and hair back in the bedroom itself. 

"Morning."

"Morning" she replied and kissed him as their paths crossed and she headed for the shower, returning moments later with her dry hair pulled up in a roll and held with a flat hair-clip, wearing a slightly damp black satin robe, her erect nipples delineated by the material, towel drying her face. Sherlock was already dressed, but his eyes fell to her breasts. He beckoned her over to him, untied the robe's belt and buried his face in her breasts, kissing them, smelling them, stroking his cheek on her flesh. 

As his tongue caressed her skin, tasting the last water droplets off her form, his mouth found a nipple and he kissed it very delicately. His hand slipped around her waist inside her robe and held a bottom cheek as a toilet flush brought him back to his senses, so he winked, left the room and went into the kitchen and put the coffee on to burble away. Further movement could be heard from the other bedroom above so he knew John, Mary or both were awake. Elle, now dressed, joined him in the kitchen.

"Umm, coffee" she said. "Best smell in the world, bar one possibly..." She turned to look to Sherlock with a frying pan in her hand. "Bacon?"

"Yes please."

The two best smells in the world must have been a good incentive to get up for the Watsons as both John and Mary appeared moments after the rashers had hit the pan. Bacon sandwiches all round, and a couple of cups of coffee each were ingested as the group planned a walk locally on the cool but sunny Easter Saturday morning. 

Into Regent's Park the two pairs wandered, sometimes in a row of four where the paths were accommodating, otherwise in twos: the two girls together behind the two friends, or Sherlock and Elle ahead of John and Mary.

They had a light lunch over at a restaurant in the centre of the Park then continued their route. Mid afternoon changed to early evening and a clear sunny sky was quite suddenly dark and threatening. A few spits of rain blowing on a strengthening breeze turned quickly into a torrent, mixed with hail and more of that wickedly biting wind. With his right arm wrapped around Elle's shoulders Sherlock led a good pace back towards Baker Street. They had all worn warm clothes but none had expected such a downpour, so there was nothing vaguely waterproof between them. 

"You can always rely on the British weather to be unreliable" was John's witty quip as they stood just behind 221B's black door dripping wet. All four of them laughed, then Mary realised how cold she was. Coats off revealed just how wet they actually all were too. The coats were sodden and, more concernedly, so were their trousers. Mary seemed wettest of all. "Bloody rain" smarted John.

"Come on everyone, upstairs", said Sherlock. "I will get the fire burning. John?"

"I'll go and get some dry towels. Still in the airing cupboard?" Sherlock nodded in assent. John charged ahead up the stairs.

"Elle?" A question from her lover to see what she could do to aid the situation. The two girls and Sherlock climbed the stairs and headed into the lounge.

"I'll make us something hot. Coffee? What else does anyone fancy?" At this point John came into the lounge with four clean towels, handing them out.

"How about pancakes?" he asked. "That is what all those oranges are for?"

"No, we were going to make Bucks Fizz - Sherlock has Champagne in the 'fridge."

"Sounds good to me. How about pancakes and Bucks Fizz?"

"You are pancake mad" interjected Mary. "Does sound a good idea though. Original if nothing else." With John's smile and a nod from Sherlock Elle found a bowl, plain flour, milk, eggs and salt and started making a batter, melting some butter in a small frying pan.

The fire burning bright Sherlock towel dried his hair, walking across to the kitchen where Elle was in full swing tossing pancakes. John joined them saying "Nice wrist action!" trying to stifle a grin when his friend caught his eye, then winked. Sherlock moved Elle's damp locks to one side and kissed the nape of her neck, towelling under her collar then blotting residual rain out of her hair.

"Oh shit!" came an exclamation from the lounge. Mary walked in. "I brought different jumpers and underwear for the weekend, but only these jeans. They are soaked." She looked pleadingly at the rest of the group as if some obvious get-out from this silly situation would spring to one of them.

"I only have this pair of jeans with me too. We could put our nightwear on I guess, then put the jeans to dry in the airing cupboard for morning."

"It's only just 8 o'clock!"

"I am not suggesting going to bed yet, but dry pyjamas and dressing gowns would be far warmer and more comfortable, and better than sitting around in wet clothes."

"You're right, of course. I'll go up and get out of these damn wet things whilst I still can."

"I have just got a couple more pancakes to make then I will change too. Sherlock, would you squeeze plenty of oranges for us? Do three bags worth, that should be enough for pancakes and Bucks Fizz." John liked the fact Elle was so quick to support Mary so she did not feel conscious or uncomfortable at the prospect of sitting about in nightwear alone.

"Of course. I'll get all the ice out and put it in the bucket to keep the Champagne cold."

"OK but keep about half a dozen of the cubes back and put them in a clean freezer bag for me."

"What is that for Elle?" asked John who started cutting oranges in half for Sherlock to squeeze.

"For the orange juice. It has the effect of keeping the juice ice cold like the Champagne, without diluting it." When the guys both looked at her mystified she shrugged and just said "An old family trick" returning to the art of making pancakes.

With all the pancakes made and in the oven, pre-rolled and keeping warm, Elle went into Sherlock's bedroom. A short time after Mary reappeared downstairs in pale baby blue pyjamas, a dark pink dressing gown and her slippers.

"I need to rinse off before eating - my hands are all sticky" Sherlock said to the room in general, having finished squeezing the oranges, transferring the juice into a large jug and adding the sealed ice bag to the jug also. "I guess I might as well join you and get changed. Are you going to change as well John?"

"Yes, why not. I know, let's have a pyjama party!"

"Good idea" said Mary. "Bring the pillows off the beds will you boys, when you come back."

Elle returned moments after the guys had retreated to rinse then change. "Did I hear they are both changing too?"

"Might as well be comfortable, all of us. John has suggested a pyjama party."

Elle went over to a table, picked up an iPod there and chose an instrumental selection. Setting the sound levels down low she placed it in a speaker cradle and soft background music permeated the open-plan rooms.

The pillows were thrown on to one of the chairs in the lounge area as the friends sat around the table in their night clothes eating and drinking. Over an hour later, the pancakes eaten and the sticky plates loaded in the dishwasher out the way, they were still there, talking, laughing, the four of them enjoying the easy-going company. They all went into the lounge with the orange jug and bubbly in its ice bucket. The cushions off the settee and chairs were all placed on the floor, along with the pillows from the bedrooms, near the fire, now the only light source in the room.

"This reminds me of cold boarding school nights in dorms" said Elle reflectively as they all sat down on the floor and spread themselves out among the cushions, pulling over a couple of throws off the chairs. "As kids we used to gather in groups like this and tell ghost stories. Great days... No wonder we were so tired next day in class though: we spent half the night telling stories and the rest too frightened to sleep." She draped one of the throws around her shoulders.

"We could do something similar now" Mary said. "Not ghost stories, but how about playing 'Truth'?"

"What's that, love?" questioned John.

"Where you ask someone a question and they have to answer truthfully. It is like 'Truth or Dare' but I think we are all a little too wise/old/cynical/intelligent to bother with the Dare aspect."

"What boundaries would we set?" asked John again, intrigued.

"None" said Sherlock. "We are all friends, let's see how it unfolds."

"I think you have just set yourself up, Sherlock" highlighted John. "Perhaps it was the fizz talking!"

"I'll start" said Mary. "Elle, here is a silly one for you to set the ball rolling: are the buttons on your pyjamas comfortable to sleep on?" Mary giggled. 

Elle looked down. She was wearing a set of deep green silk pyjamas with five matching silk covered buttons about the size of two pound coins: her now dry black satin robe tied loosely over the top. "I don't know" came the reply. Quizzical expressions all round, she continued. "I have not had them long - before I met Sherlock before you ask, but they were brand new when I brought them here to wear and, to be truthful as this game suggests, I have never slept in it." She smiled to the room then glanced at Sherlock licking the back of her front teeth provocatively. "It usually finishes up being taken off, or undone at the very least." With those last words she gave Sherlock one of his own 'clicks and winks'. They all laughed.

"Interesting start" said Sherlock, eyebrow raised. "John, what do you like most about being married?"

"Not having to live with you, thanks for putting me on the spot, Friend!... Oh, I don't know. The companionship, the knowing someone is always there for you; knowing you can be with someone without talking and they understand; sharing love with someone; having your best friend to come home to and talk to if you have had a shitty or crazy day." Mary leaned across to John and kissed him softly on the cheek. That had obviously been a good answer.

"You had most of that living with me" responded Sherlock.

"Yes, but there are some extra unlisted benefits with Mary", John added with a cheeky smile.

Mary flushed slightly, then proceeded to wrap herself in the second throw to keep warm, enticing John to come and join her. Leaning up against Mary, his arm around his wife's back John asked "Sherlock, what contraceptive do you and Elle use?"

"We don't." Sherlock had said this so blasé without even considering the reaction it may cause.

"What? Are you trying for..."

"We are not trying for anything" interrupted Elle. "I had an ovarian cyst removed last year by laparotomy. Unfortunately the op finished up as a full hysterectomy. I am on HRT tablets and, one unexpected side effect, as horny as hell!"

"HRT can take women to either of the extremes" explained John wearing his doctor's head. "I have dealt with both types in GP Surgery. I do not know which is worse for the woman, to have no libido, or an uncontrollable one."

"I know which I prefer" quipped Sherlock openly.

"For that, Sherlock" demanded John, "what things do you like most about Elle?" There was a collective "ooo" from all quarters, including the questioned man.

Sherlock paused to consider his answer carefully, he unconsciously steepled his fingers under his chin and smiled. "I like the sensitivity of her touch, the delicacy of her kiss, the warmth her body inspires through mine, the smell and feel of her hair and her openness to question. She makes me like myself, just by being with me. I like the fact I can reveal my deductive reasonings to her, or just voice them out loud, without her being totally bored. She does not complain when I torture my violin; though in fairness I have not played it much recently - too busy. She's phen... she has...". He turned his head directly towards her. "You have lovely breasts. I could be lost when I am near them, and never want to be found... now I have said too much. Sorry." His voice trailed off and his eyes dropped.

"No" replied Elle, her own voice slightly crackly as her mouth had dried listening to him. "No, not at all." She took a long slow breath then a deep draught of Bucks Fizz and proceeded to make another one, holding the bubbly bottle aloft as to ask if anyone else was ready for more. Three other glasses came her way. Whilst her eyes were averted to the task of pouring drinks, she asked a question, placing empty Champagne bottle number three upside down in the ice.

"Mary and John, one answer each: what do you like least about one another?" She smiled waiting to see if either of the married couple would wriggle out of this game.

"I wish John was a more considerate lover" blurted Mary unexpectedly.

"What?" exclaimed John.

"You are wonderful, John, even a great lover, but I wish you were not usually hell-bent on breaking some kind of speed record. You are passionate and can be gentle, very loving too, but it is like you have a train to catch or somewhere to be and, by the time you reach orgasm, I am, well, not always quite there."

"We could resolve that", said Elle slowly in a very even voice, "here, tonight." Sherlock glanced at her.

"We could?" questioned Mary very intrigued.

"Wait. What? I mean, I need to answer too, don't I?" said John quietly. Mary nodded.

"I wish Mary was less awkward, no, awkward is the wrong word, was... was more skilled, adept... at giving blow jobs!" The last four words had dashed out of his mouth so fast it sounded like one.

"We can definitely resolve that one!" repeated Elle, more lightly this time and wearing a huge grin.

"How?" asked John. "Are you queen of blow jobs or something?"

"Ooo, yeah" coughed Sherlock. They all laughed. So much for not playing the 'Dare' card; this game had taken an erotic twist right from the beginning.

Elle was very surprised Sherlock had said anything, but now he had... "I half expected that to be in your answer about me!" He smiled at her, thinking how very nearly it had been, then looked away.

Mary looked at Elle with all seriousness now. "How, how could you slow John down? Would you need to make love to him?"

"No! NO! I just thought... if you and John, and Sherlock and I... here, near to each other, John would slow down because he would automatically match Sherlock's rhythm."

"How do you know I would not change to match John?"

"Because for the most part I would have some input into the control of you!"

"Perhaps we should try and sort out the blow job one first?" queried Mary wary of where this whole conversation was leading. Elle sighed.

"Very personal question John" Elle asked him very softly and honestly. "On a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you at this moment?"

After a short pause to think he replied "About an eight."

"And a half" added Sherlock mischievously.

"See, if we tried to resolve that first he, [she glanced at Sherlock] they would go off like fire crackers."

"I would" agreed John. Sherlock nodded.

"You need him calm at the start to reap the benefit, both of you, from a damn good blow job." Sherlock nodded again, a Cheshire Cat-style grin now plastered across his far from innocent face.

After a deep breath John said "So how do you suggest we resolve the fast shag syndrome then?"

Elle picked up the corner of the throw around her shoulders. "Using these to keep at least the smallest modicum of modesty, we pair up next to each other, now, here."

"Are you seriously suggesting what I think you are?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes. How many people watch porn for the quality of script and landscape scenery?"

"None, I guess" mumbled Sherlock. "Ask John, he is more expert than I am I recall." The two men exchanged looks.

"People watch to get off on it. The biggest turn on to the majority of humans is seeing other humans 'at it'. So the thought alone, of others in close proximity... We will not be watching them, they will not be watching us. We will be too busy with ourselves, but there should naturally be a certain amount of synchronicity about it."

"I said you shouldn't have agreed to no boundaries" said John to Sherlock smugly. "I'm up for it."

"I am sure you could have expressed that better, but we know what you mean" replied Mary, John's flushing noticeable even in just firelight when he considered what he had just said.

"Oh, why not!" said Sherlock, downing the last of his Bucks Fizz. "Better get on with it before any of us really think about this."

"We'll keep it simple, no gymnastics. Mary and I will stay on our backs."

"Missionaries all round then. I'm almost a nine now, is this still going to work?"

"Yes John" both Mary and Elle chorused together as they each hunkered down within the folds of their respective throws and awaited their man.

"Are we going to talk?" John asked, not seriously knowing whether yes or no would be worse.

"To your partner, yes. You cannot expect barked instructions. Go with the flow. Just remember - it is not a race, quite the opposite in fact. Relax. Enjoy it."

"Relax?!" exclaimed John.

"So much for a good night in with friends" Sherlock observed as he curled up to Elle and started kissing her neck and stroking her breasts, her big-buttoned pyjama shirt open once more. Subtle shifts of bodies confirmed the removal of layers under both throws.

"I'm there already" Elle whispered half reassuringly, then kissing his ear. "You don't need to turn me on believe me, I nearly orgasmed just listening to you talking about me!"

A gentle hand sliding down her stomach, his finger found her soft and receptive as he followed the trace with his length. Tipping her pelvis by placing one hand under her bum cheeks, he pushed himself into her, she releasing the first audible gasp of the night.

Both Elle and Sherlock were aware of odd noises coming from within the room, but Elle had been right. They were so into each other by now the fact someone else was there was, at this moment at least, irrelevant to what they were doing.

This was more than intensely pleasurable, this was sublime. Elle wrapped her legs around Sherlock's hips so she could use her pelvis and internal muscles to effect his movement. He was slow, controlled, purposeful, yet there was nothing gentle about it. With every ecstatic thrust, exaggerated as the platform was solid floor, he pushed all of himself deeply inside her. She was groaning extensively at each extreme position. Over ten minutes later their rhythm had started hotting up.

"I guess one of the best things you would say about yourself is that you have multiple orgasms all the time." This whisper was from Sherlock.

"I never used to, Sherlock. No lover has ever got me even close to multiple orgasms before. Now I could send myself into rapture just thinking about you being near me, never mind actually touching you." 

Nearly every word of the last part of her sentence was punctuated with a little gasp. Her body was pulsating and constricting now from head to toe. Conversation of any sort was no longer an option. Elle was again in total orgasm and no amount of interrogation would get another word out of her, she was barely getting enough breath to sustain life. Sherlock threw all caution to the wind and, over half an hour after these exploits had started, gave her his everything.

Again she had been right, thought Sherlock. Hell, she was nearly always right, more insufferable than even he is. John and Sherlock had timed their orgasms naturally to literally within seconds of one other, each exclaiming out loud, each turning to glance at the other at that moment of 'fire cracking'.

"Oh, Jesus", exclaimed John. "Do you do a marathon every time Sherlock?" The doctor sounded both tired and impressed.

"No. Sometimes it's more of a splash and dash."

"That too could have been better phrased" said Elle breathlessly "but who would seriously give a shit how you say it when you do it so well!" Sherlock clicked and winked. She kissed him deeply.

Amongst the group there was only one silent party. Hiding her face from all with her arm and the throw, Mary had said nothing. She wiped tears away discreetly with her hand then, sitting herself up ensuring she was covered she spoke, half jokingly, with a nervous giggle in her voice.

"Gosh, I don't know which of you to thank most. That was unbelievable. John, well, your contribution was obvious, and truly amazing; Sherlock setting the perfect rhythm and pace; Elle, how did you know that would happen? And just how many orgasms did you have?"

"I... I - God knows. It just gets more and more intense, I cannot always tell where one stops and the next starts, or even if they do now. It may just be one orgasm. I am not sure..."

"It's not likely to be one orgasm" stated the doctor in the room. "It's quite unusual to have that kind of height of intensity for so long though. You would be a great subject to study if I was still at junior doctor level. I wonder if anyone has ever covered it in their thesis?"

"John - not now" Mary said apologetically. "He so often slides back into type without realising it. It is good having a fully qualified doctor in the house, but he often reverts to his old self."

"Better that old self than the broken ex-soldier I met after his tour in Afghanistan" mentioned Sherlock reflectively. The two male friends smiled at one another.

Breaking the slight tension in the room Mary said "Well. Goodness knows what we'll do tomorrow" and sighed as she shrugged her shoulders.

"It already is tomorrow!" exclaimed Elle. Pulling her pyjama bottoms back on, and fastening a couple of pyjama top buttons she sidled out from within the throw and picked up the orange juice jug and Champagne bucket. Mary followed her into the kitchen carrying four empty Champagne flutes.

"Thank you for instigating such a remarkable evening."

"I didn't think I had. I suggested pyjamas rather than wet clothes but you suggested playing the 'Truth' game."

"John suggested the pyjama party, and Sherlock no boundaries. I guess we are all to blame, but thank you anyway" Mary finished.

The girls could hear the guys laughing and talking whilst collecting the throws, cushions and pillows off the floor, re-organising the room as it should be. Sherlock then placed a guard in front of the dwindling fire, turned off the music, picked up his pillows and headed for his room, the guys saying good night. John collected the other pillows, heading upstairs, leaving the two girls together. As they put the throws in the corner of the room for washing Mary said "What time do you think we should plan to get up in the morning?"

"Let's play it by ear. Have a think about what you might want to do. We could go into the City, or find another park to get soaked in, or plan to stay in, I'm sure none of us would mind what we do."

Elle added a cleaning tablet to the dishwasher once loaded and turned it on to run overnight.

"Well, that was some evening" said Sherlock as he climbed into bed after time in the bathroom. "I have not even worked out how most of that even transpired as yet."

"Collusion" replied Elle unreservedly, brushing her hair and fastening it into a low ponytail. "But Mary and I were talking about it and all colluded without even realising it so no one person should be blamed."

"I blame you" whispered Sherlock. "The answer to your first question set the tone of the whole evening. We were all tuned into sex from that moment onwards." He was kissing her throat now, after watching her hang her robe next to his and climb in bed beside him.


	5. The unexpected guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fun continues but a surprise visitor drops in on Baker Street. Now the family knows...

Someone was in the shower room upstairs. There was daylight appearing above and around the sides of the curtains. Elle turned her head to see Sherlock, shirtless, but still fast asleep next to her. She tried to see the clock on his bedside table but his head obscured her view and she feared if she moved too much she would wake him. Climbing deftly off the left side of the bed, furthest from the door, she walked around and picked up the clock to read the time. It was 08:42. A cool waft of air touched her torso. She looked down. Her two-pound coin-sized buttons were open again. It raised a smile.

Taking her robe Elle opened the door gently and nipped silently into the bathroom next door. As she headed back to the bedroom her senses stopped her: she could smell coffee. Two whispered voices could be heard but not so she could distinguish what was said. Elle returned to the bedroom, grabbed her detangling brush, untied her hair, dropped her gown on the corner of the bed and shuffled gently under the duvet sitting up brushing carefully through her locks. Sherlock had still not stirred.

A few minutes' later the voices had become noticeably louder with occasional laughter. Sherlock moved beneath the duvet. Rolling over and seeing his lady sitting up he propped himself up on his arms, raised his face to hers, kissed her softly on the lips and said "Good morning".

"Morning."

"Been awake long?"

"No, about ten minutes" she said after spotting the time. "It isn't 9 o'clock yet but John and Mary seem to be in the kitchen already. Shall we get up and join them?"

"Yes - you go see what's happening. See you in a few minutes. I need to shave." He took his robe off the back of the bedroom door and left for the bathroom. 

Elle put her own robe on again and made her way through to the kitchen. "Morning and Happy Easter. Sleep ok?" She noticed both of the Watsons were still in their night attire too.

"Eventually" smiled John, as he walked across to the lounge window to open the curtains and looked up into the sky at the weather - it was raining hard. "Did you hear the rain last night? Would you like some breakfast? Is Sherlock awake yet?" John walked back into the kitchen and selected four glasses from inside one of the cupboards.

"Unusually no, yes please and yes" spluttered Elle, trying to answer his bombardment of questions in order. "Sherlock will be here in a moment."

"How would you like your eggs this morning?" smiled Mary, busy monitoring toast slices, cutting some more bread as was required.

"Err, poached please, as there is toast."

"Any idea what Sherlock would like?"

"I'll have poached too, Mary, thank you" he said as he walked into the kitchen, kissed Elle gently on the forehead and sat in the seat next to her. 

"Juice?" said John holding up the jug with more freshly squeezed orange in it. Assent from around the table, the coffee soon followed and the four friends sat talking and eating breakfast.

This idyllic friendly domestic scene was rudely disturbed by the loud PING of a mobile phone. "Apologies, that's me. Excuse me" said Sherlock as he rose from the table and went into the lounge to pick up his phone off the mantel. He invariably checked his mobile quickly as more often than not it was Lestrade seeking advice or assistance. However, when he saw the name of the text sender his eyes rolled upwards. "What does he want?"

MH: Morning little brother. Need to see you ASAP. Mycroft

S: It is Easter Sun, I have guests 4 wknd. Just finishing breakfast. SH

MH: It is very important. And it is only the Watsons. Mycroft

"Oh shit" exclaimed Sherlock as he walked across to the lounge window and looked down. A highly polished large black car was parked outside the door. "It is Mycroft, and he's here."

"Mycroft?" quizzed Elle looking towards John. Evidently Sherlock had told Elle as much about Mycroft as he had been told about her.

"Sherlock's brother. What does he want?" The question pointed to his friend.

"To come in and see me. Do you mind, sorry?"

"No, of course not" said John. "Let him come up." 

S: OK. Will let you in. SH

Sherlock descended the stairs to open the door, Elle walked away towards the bathroom.

The brothers walked into the lounge already in full conversation, the air of importance from one, exasperation from the other. "If you are sure there is no alternative I will look at the file. Just how desperate can it be? It is Easter you know."

"If it was not important I would not be here Sherlock. Governmental problems don't care whether it is a weekend or a Bank Holiday! I will get the dossier together and then over to you some time later today. You are not likely to go far in the rain anyway are you? Hello John, Mary. Good morning. Happy Easter. Sorry to have disturbed your breakfast." Immaculately dressed, Mycroft stood in between the kitchen and the lounge looking towards the fire, leaning on his umbrella, which was dripping slightly, just from crossing between his car and 221B's front door. His keen eyes had scanned the kitchen table. Not as observant as his younger sibling but he had not failed to notice an extra plate, mug, glass and cutlery on the table over and above what he expected. A sound behind him made him turn around to see a woman he did not know entering the room.

"Aa, Mycroft, may I introduce you to another friend of mine, Elle. Elle, this is my brother, Mycroft."

"Hello Mycroft, Lavinia Jensen." The two shook hands. 

A vague nod of acknowledgement then turning back to his brother, Mycroft said slightly pleadingly, "Just a quick perusal and a phone call or text. Look, tomorrow will do - to see whether you précis the situation as I do? Thank you. It is important Sherlock. Good bye. Sorry to have disturbed. Nice to have met you." Mycroft's last messages had been directed to each in the room as he turned. Soon he had descended the stairs opened and closed the door and his chauffeured car was out of sight before any of the four still standing in the lounge had uttered anything.

All looking stunned at one another Sherlock said "I think I will go and take a hot bath. I had better get on with it. I am bound to receive another telephone call within the hour."

"Who from? Mycroft?" queried John. Surely his friend had heard the dossier would be there later today, not in an hour.

"No" replied Sherlock, looking frustrated, "my Mother!" His face now less contorted and just one eyebrow slightly raised he glanced to Elle then said "Care to join me?"

Elle smiled, looked around to Mary and John and said "Would you mind?"

"No, not at all. Actually, we are running low on oranges so John and I could fetch some once we are dressed. Do you have an umbrella we can borrow Sherlock?"

"Yes. There is one of Mycroft's old ginormous canopies in the under-stairs cupboard" he replied. All the friends separated shortly after, two of them in one bedroom getting dressed to go out, the others in the bathroom, water filling the tub.

A call of "see you later" and the slamming of the outside door indicated Mary and John had gone out as Elle climbed into the hot bath to join Sherlock.

Face to face with their legs either side of each other's hips Elle and Sherlock coveted the touch of each other's wet skin, splashing and washing one another without either need or true purpose. Kisses ensued. A while later Sherlock pulled out the plug and released about a half the tub's water before replugging then turning on the hot tap again. With about a third of the drained water replenished he turned off the hot tap then adjusted his position in the bath to find himself over his girlfriend.

With eye contact alone the lovers communicated their intentions as Sherlock slipped himself inside Elle whilst she was lying on her back. Their body movement caused waves within the tub but the water was now just low enough not to spill over the side on to the floor. ['Clever boy' Elle thought.] Moments later and they had rolled, Elle now straddled her man, arching her back in cat-like yoga style movements holding the edge of the bath forcing herself down upon him, he finger-tipping her breasts as they dipped in and out of the water.

Pleasurable as it was, they believed this was always going to be inconclusive. A slight twitch of Sherlock's head towards the shower a while later and Elle understood his plan. She pulled herself away and got out of the bath straight into the shower, hot and on full power. Sherlock followed re-entering her nearly as soon as he entered the cubicle, also on full power.

Against his shower wall instead of hers, as in a previous encounter, the lovers took their pleasures to a new height, both of them climaxing loudly and enthusiastically, Elle finished up with her legs tight around Sherlock's hips, him and the wall taking the strain. Her body shaking and heart pounding she lowered her feet back to the floor. Her head would take longer to come down from the clouds. Moving apart, Sherlock nonchalantly passed her the shampoo and started lathering his own hair. Conditioner and a rinsing later Sherlock was first to step out of the cubicle, and pulled out the plug on the bath a second time just before vacating the room. 

He was dry and half dressed when she walked into the room with one towel wrapped neatly around her head and another around her, his pyjama bottoms, her pyjamas and both robes in her arms.

"I think I will go and put the coffee back on" Sherlock said as he fastened a dark grey cotton shirt over his white t-shirt, tucking the t-shirt into the waist of a pair of soft-black Chino's. Almost automatically he clicked and winked as he headed out the door. Elle smiled back. Before he made it out the room he realised John and Mary had returned as the smell of fresh coffee brewing already hung in the air.

"Still raining?" he enquired.

"Pouring" replied John. "Bloody cold too. I have started a fire."

Four mugs of hot coffee were carried through to the lounge and the others were seated before Elle came into the room.

"Gosh. I had not realised your hair was as long as that!" exclaimed Mary as Elle emerged from the bedroom. Half peering over her own shoulder, as if she needed to look, Elle saw her hair was hanging down her back. Still slightly wet it was straight and stopped about an inch below bra clip height.

"Not for long though. It will soon be around shoulder length again. It dries really fast. Thanks for the coffee."

Just as predicted, a short time later, a mobile phone rang, and Sherlock answered it and carried it into the hall out of politeness. His friends could still hear his side of the conversation.

"Hello Mother, Happy Easter... Yes, I am fine, thank you. You?... How's Dad?... I thought he must have called... It is Easter weekend and was not long passed 9 o'clock. It should be up to me if I am still in my pyjamas!... Yes. John and Mary... Her name is Elle... No! With me in my room... Mother!... Yes, I will talk to her and if ok, plan to come out to the country... May Bank Holiday?... Not sure. Elle's birthday is at the end of this month. We may have plans... I don't know... Mother... All right. I will... No. Nothing else has 'changed'. Say hi to Dad for me... OK... Goodbye."

"Your mother, by any chance?" quipped John as Sherlock walked in. They all glanced at one another and burst into semi-embarrassed laughter.

"'I hope you did not make her sleep on the couch'" mimicked Sherlock exasperatedly. "Honestly! Anyone would think I was a nineteen year old jerk!"

"She was probably just getting you to confirm you are sleeping together" said John sagely. Sherlock looked at his wise friend nodding, sensing truth in his words.

"Were you a nineteen year old jerk?" questioned Elle.

"All boys are jerks at nineteen, aren't they? [Sherlock sighed exasperatedly again] My brother told her I was still in my pyjamas! For God's sake. Yes, Mycroft. Only because I was about to have sex, feeling alive - sharing carnal, physical, unadulterated pleasure with another human being - something you won't have done this morning, or this year, or probably even this damn century!!" The audience of three had sat in silence whilst Sherlock had had this bombastic rant with himself at his brother's expense, the volume of his voice rising with every word. Tension, as well as love and an obvious respect, ran deep in that relationship. "Sorry... I need some air."

"Want to go out for a walk, clear the cobwebs?" asked Elle tenderly. "It looks like it may have stopped raining."

"Yes. OK. Will you come with me?" Elle nodded. "Do you two fancy another walk?"

"No thanks Sherlock. You two go ahead" John responded.

"We will plan something for lunch later" added Mary. "Take the umbrella, I would not trust it won't rain again."

"Text me if there is anything you want us to pick up. Did you get some more oranges?" Sherlock directed his question to John.

"Yes. And another couple of bottles of Champagne. Only the Anderson's minimart is open. London seems deserted."

"Oh, of course. Thank you John. See you both soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will be posted in 5-chapter chunks. Hopefully it will be read, enjoyed and the rest will follow... Let me know if you like it!


	6. The experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playtime for four in one bed. An Easter to remember.

A couple of hours later Sherlock and Elle had returned to Baker Street and already lunched with Mary and John. It had been spitting with rain again shortly before Sherlock had opened his front door but now, sitting in the lounge looking out the window, it was yet again torrential. Sherlock was the first to speak.

"I would like to apologise for my brother and, more so, for my terrible behaviour after my Mother's phone call earlier. I ask you all for forgiveness."

"As you are such a kind and generous host, consider yourself forgiven" said Mary with a wink and a smile. Sherlock returned both.

A knock on the door halted the conversation. Sherlock checked out the lounge window first then went downstairs to admit Mycroft, who stood in front of him holding the dossier promised. "Thank you again for looking into this for me. Could I ask a big favour Sherlock? Could I use your bathroom please? I had something to eat out with friends last night and I do not believe it agreed with me."

"Yes, of course, no problem. I didn't know you had friends Mycroft."

"Well acquaintances then. You know. Excuse me." Mycroft bustled straight through the kitchen without any pleasantries to the real friends sitting in the lounge. Sherlock rejoined them, carrying the dossier, explained Mycroft was in the bathroom and waited for his brother to appear again.

"Sorry about that. Thank you Sherlock. Hello and goodbye again." Mycroft left as quickly as he had turned up. Sherlock sat down on the settee and perused the document at speed whilst John was reading Saturday's newspaper, Mary that paper's supplement and Elle went to tidy in the kitchen. Not having finished reading it all Sherlock put the folder by the side of the sofa to read later.

"I'm glad we got out for some air when we did" stated Elle walking back into the room, glancing towards the window.

"Yes, we would be wetter now than we even were yesterday, and look where that led us!" There. John had done it. He had mentioned, and therefore reminded everyone about, the evening before. Other than his quip to her about it being 'some evening', and she bringing up the subject of collusion, Elle and Sherlock had said nothing more about last evening's events to one another, and most definitely not to John or Mary since they had parted last night.

Looking around the room Elle could see they were all smiling, wistfully remembering their favourite moments of what had happened. "Six!" she suddenly exclaimed calmly but out loud.

"I beg your pardon?" said Sherlock.

"Six!"

"I thought you said 'sex'" said John folding away his 'paper.

"What is 'six'?" asked Mary, glaring across at her husband with an 'of course you did' look.

"Six is how turned on I am right now, answering the question I asked of John last night." She looked, pan-faced around the room. Her eyes met Mary's.

"Six is about right for me too, maybe five and a half." She smiled at Elle.

"I am probably a five right now, but the mercury is steadily rising" said John responding to his wife's encouragement, cringing immediately, realising his bad choice of analogy yet again.

"You are all leaving me behind" said the last to declare. "I'm afraid I am only about a two or three." Sherlock sounded vaguely disappointed. Perhaps the conversations with Mycroft or his mother were still too raw and vivid in his mind.

"I think we need to go to bed" the words tumbled as softly out of Elle's mouth as her hair, now dry and curly, down her back. "All of us." No word of explanation, of her plan, anything, Elle turned on her heel and left the room heading through the kitchen towards Sherlock's bedroom.

Contemplative looks between the other three then Mary, John and finally Sherlock started to follow as well. Elle was waiting at the door. "Mary, go upstairs please, I will be with you in a minute. John, Sherlock, in here", opening Sherlock's bedroom door. "Get undressed and comfortable." Sherlock noticed she had made the kingsize bed, probably what she was doing when Mycroft originally arrived. She walked into the room and drew the curtains.

"Both of us, in here?"

"Yes John. Naked. Sherlock, you had better go that side where I sleep. Get in bed, try to relax and place your arms under the pillows behind your heads. Mary and I will see you both shortly." Collecting her robe and hair band she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, going upstairs to John's room to join Mary.

"What are you planning Elle? Where is John?"

"John will hopefully shortly be in bed with Sherlock, and we are planning to give them... the time of their lives." Elle had excitedly whispered these last five words. She then banded her hair, undressed, putting her robe on, everything else folded in a pile on the floor. Mary copied then the girls sat on the edge of the bed. "This is what we will do..."

Just over ten minutes later Mary and Elle left John's room, and went to Sherlock's where they could hear the friends talking, slightly nervously to one another. Mary opened the door and Elle closed it behind them. Sherlock and John were sitting up, but moved to be flat in the bed, tucking their arms beneath the pillows as instructed. Mary sat on the edge of the bed on Sherlock's side where John was, removed her robe and climbed under the duvet. Elle did the same from the other side sliding down next to Sherlock.

Lying on her right side Elle craned across Sherlock and kissed him deeply on the mouth. This was mirrored by Mary on John. The duvet was then pushed slightly down revealing two very different pairs of breasts and two male chests. The girls started stroking the torsos of their men. Sherlock realised that whatever his fate was, his friend was in for the same, or very similar. 

The girls went from kissing their respective's mouths to their throats, then traced lines across their bodies which included nipples, moles, scars and navels and any route in between. In time, after traversing their male body with their lips, the girls lifted their heads slightly, smiled at one another, winked, then guided their mouths on to their partner's cocks. Elle with her left hand, Mary her right, they took a light grip of their partner near the penile root and began to slide their hands gently up and down kissing and licking the glans.

In unison both men groaned. Sherlock lowered his hand to stroke Elle's hair but she batted it back with her own, having to release him temporarily and glared at him, shaking her head, staring into his eyes, then re-taking his cock between her lips. She took her hold again and continued. Sherlock returned his arm beneath his pillow plainly scolded. John had witnessed the sequence and decided a touch was not worth the chastisement so kept his own arms regimentally where they were.

Now the girls incorporated slight twists in the changing speed of the up and down movement, tighter and looser grips just to alter the sensation and gradually taking more and more of their men's shafts into their mouths. Mary gagged a couple of times lightly, but she did not waiver from the task in hand. Elle, on the other side, however, appeared expert to Sherlock's will. Alternating deep oral, and hand jobs with kisses and licks, the girls worked their men gradually but eventually to full climax, each swallowing the seed released.

In all this time no-one had said a word. The guys had restricted themselves to sighs and groans alone. Elle laid her head on Sherlock's chest, his arms finally allowed to reappear from their duck-down restraint he draped his left one loosely against her back and stroked her hair with his right. As far as she knew, Mary and John were in a similar position. She was not thinking of them. Her eyes were closed and her only thoughts were for the man she was cuddling. Sherlock's right index finger slipped under Elle's chin and he caught her gaze as she opened her eyes. He tried to pull her towards him, and she followed his lead so he achieved his goal, a long, penetrating, but tender kiss.

"Now, what number are you?" she breathed, her dilated eyes appearing the size of saucers.

"Out of ten? About twelve... and a half, and knackered! God Elle, that was sensational." A soft smile on his face, their lips merged again for another incredibly passionate and sensual kiss, then he closed his eyes. Elle manoeuvred herself back so her head was on his chest again, her eyes closed too.

"Twenty" came a sudden gasp from John. Elle opened her eyes again and looked across to Mary and John for the first time. They were lying in mirror image of her and Sherlock. Elle then found Mary's eyes and saw a look of total contentment on their faces, she smiled then, as mirrored again, both girls clicked and winked. All slept.


	7. Sweet revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected passion between friends...

Elle stirred. The room was pitch black now, turning her head she tried but again could not see the clock. This time it was Mary's head that obscured her view. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light she could see Mary's eyes were also open. "Time?" she asked in a whisper.

Mary turned her head, then turned back and mouthed "8:42".

What? thought Elle in all astonishment. It was exactly twelve hours since she had woken this morning. It had been a very interesting day.

Turning gently Elle tried to reach for her robe on the floor without disturbing Sherlock.

"Where do you think you are going?" he whispered to her.

"I was going to get up and rustle up some drinks, then think about what we could have for dinner" the whisper came back.

He grabbed her shoulder forcibly and again whispered "Oh no you don't. You cannot do that to a man and not let him reap some sort of revenge". She could see his eyes twinkle malevolently in the minuscule amount of light her eyes had got used to.

"Good idea" said John aloud, moving Mary so she was on her back and he was on her far side. 

Sherlock now mirrored John. He lying on his right side stroking his left hand around Elle's right shoulder, across her neck and down on to her breasts. He could not resist kissing her breasts ardently. He plucked a nipple with his teeth, moving his head away from her stretching the skin slightly before releasing. Over to the other nipple where he suckled child-like, then traced the areola with his tongue. His cheek rubbing against her breasts still, his attention transferred back to his left hand which was moving lower down her body to her navel. He found the tip of her scar and pianoed his fingers up and down it. Finally he reached her pubis, her hair, and touched her clitoris and labia.

Now completely oblivious to the two people on the other half of the bed, Sherlock slipped further down the bed, rested his head near her hip and placed his tongue on her clitoris and encircled it. His left hand was now free and he slithered his index finger within her swollen walls, feeling the muscles around it contract. He continued this torment until she started to writhe. Removing his finger, he awkwardly but effectively moved his body low between her legs and alternated his tongue's movement from around her clitoris to inside her and back, again and again. Elle's back arched violently in orgasm.

She ran her fingers through his hair. Revenge indeed she thought, her body wracked with the pleasures he was torturing her with. She was about to call his name but he second-guessed her body's request and lifted himself on to and into her. Her legs immediately wrapped around his hips but he wanted more. Pushing her legs out and over his arms they settled calves on his shoulders, the back of her thighs under his chest, bearing his weight. He tilted to the right, stretched her left leg out to the side and manipulated it so he could kiss her foot, her ankle, her calf. Flexible! He pushed his weight and more into her moist, heavenly depths.

Time passed unnoticed and a sound of significance told him John was close, very close to climax. Mary was panting short, sharp breaths, her arms tight around his neck, her legs around his hips. Sherlock afforded himself the shortest glance towards them which took him immediately over the threshold himself. Surprisingly, the most vocal of the troupe usually, Elle, was totally silent. 

Sherlock rolled off of Elle to rest back on his right hand side, releasing the deepest, longest sigh. There was no reason for him to stay with his body upon her. He had nothing left to keep them together. He did, however, have a grin on his face only comparable to that of a young child's when first visiting Hamley's London toy shop at Christmas. Finally Elle turned her head to Sherlock and spoke.

"You bastard. Just you wait..." she threatened laughing, still breathing extraordinarily heavily.

"It is you who will have to wait, a month probably the way I am feeling at the minute."

"It won't be that long I assure you!"

"You were so quiet. Anything wrong?"

"No, far from it. I had no breath for sound" she replied, realising but not verbalising in company she had just had the strongest orgasm of her life.

"You two ok?"

"Fine Sherlock, thanks" responded John casually. "Just another ordinary day. Christ, Elle you know way too much about all this."

"I know nothing. I am innocent!" This comment raised a derisory "Hah!" from her partner.

"You came up with this. Were you a whore in a former life?"

"No John. I am innocent, seriously. I just happen to have a very active - and erotic - imagination. I imagine or dream of what I would like to do. I don't know if some of it is even possible, or will work and give the pleasure I am hoping for, or if I will ever find a person or people to try them with, but that truthfully is the way it is."

"Do you have anymore of these dreams left?" Sherlock asked apprehensively, half hoping and half dreading the answer.

"Ooo yeah" she said, mocking Sherlock from the day before.

"Phew" exclaimed John. "I need a shower."

"We all need a shower" corrected Sherlock.

"Let's go in twos and get it over with. I'm getting hungry. It has just gone 9:30" Mary added.

"I don't mind going in twos, but I am not going with him" Elle prodded Sherlock. "I don't trust him."

"I have got nothing left for you to fear, believe me!"

"You boys go get done first. Then sort out something to eat" suggested Mary.

"I cannot get up first" said John, "I have not got my robe in here."

"You are worried someone is going to see you when you have just spent the last forty minutes blowing and shagging openly in their company?" enquired Mary.

"Well, yes. It seems strange I know."

"Here John, borrow mine." Elle threw her robe across to him. Being very similar in height the black satin sheath did the job. John acknowledged her kindness with a smile and nod.

"It looks better on her" beamed Sherlock as he climbed out of bed unashamedly, walked to his robe on the back of the bedroom door and put it on, "but then again, she looks better out of it."

"See what I mean, why I would not go with him!" The guys finally left the room and the shower was heard starting up. Elle put Sherlock's pyjama top on temporarily (the first one to come to hand) whilst she stripped and changed the bed ready for the night.

After a few minutes John tapped on the door. "Sherlock will only be a few seconds if you want to follow him into the shower."

"Thanks John." Elle and Mary made their way out the door, Elle spotting her robe hanging on the door knob, John to be heard climbing the stairs. She took off Sherlock's shirt and put it on the bed then headed into the bathroom.

Sherlock had finished, the shower was still running but he was outside it, a towel around his waist, drying off. "Do you fancy a Chinese?"

"Lovely. Going to get something delivered?"

"Yes. I will order a few dishes, then we can help ourselves. Anything you particularly fancy?"

"Yes, but I cannot have that for a month, apparently." Elle took her turn to grin.

"You are like a Chinese meal! Sated one minute, and ready for more an hour later!"

"That is a fallacy you know." 

"I know. Anything?"

"Sweet and sour chicken, or Duck in orange or plum sauce. Something sweet. I have a salty taste in my mouth from earlier."

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her as he left the bathroom and went into the bedroom to put on his pyjamas. Elle clipped her hair up and stood under the water, keeping her head dry, tittering to herself as Mary came into the bathroom.

"Gosh. This is one Easter I'm really going to remember" said Mary.

"It would be so nice if we could get out in fresh air, for a picnic or something, but look at it; it has been foul all Easter weekend."

"Do you have any further plans for us together? I dread to think but what have you got in mind next?"

"Not sure. Let's see when we feel ready, if you still want more together."

"Yes, certainly."

"All I will say is trust me, I will never suggest we go further than any of us want to. Feel free to back out of any of my lascivious suggestions."

"I am so intrigued where it will take us next."

The girls continued to talk and swapped places after Elle had finished so she could dry herself while Mary showered. Sherlock tapped on the outside of the door. "The Chinese is ordered. It will be delivered in about 25 minutes."

"OK love. I will be out in a few minutes." 

"You called him 'love'", said Mary. "Do you love Sherlock?"

"You know, I don't know. We are so much in lust with one another at present I had not even really thought about it. I was fascinated by him from our very first meeting. I love the feel of him, just touches, not even sex, but that may still be lust too. Ask me again in time if the answer is not already clear."

Mary turned off the shower and climbed out, her short blonde hair still dry. Elle undid the clip from her mane and left it in the cubicle then perched on the loo to continue to talk with Mary as she dried. The girls left the bathroom about ten minutes later. Quickly slipping into pyjamas and robe Elle went straight into the kitchen and put some small bowls and ceramic spoons into the oven on a low temperature to warm, putting four pairs of chopsticks and four forks on the table as Mary went upstairs for her own nightwear, returning Elle's clothes to their owner.

Sherlock fetched and paid for the Chinese when the knock told him dinner had arrived. They all sat down to eat a combination of meat, seafood and vegetarian dishes, along with egg fried rice.

"Explain something Elle," said John whilst he put more rice into his bowl, "why did you put me on Sherlock's side of the bed this afternoon instead of Sherlock himself?"

"Because of a knife" she replied. Intrigue but confusion on all faces toward her, Elle explained. "I saw Mary cutting bread, buttering toast, cracking eggs, even stirring coffee, all with her right hand. I therefore knew she was predominantly right-handed. In order for you to get the most out of my plan, she needed to be able to give you a hand job with her best hand."

"You are actually using Sherlockian style deduction for sex. Weird. So you are left-handed then, like me?"

"No John, I am ambidextrous, slightly right-hand dominant, but I wank better with my left."

"God, Sherlock, she's ambidextrous. You get all the tough breaks" said John with a hint of hilarity in his voice. "What are we having later?"

"We are still eating dinner, John" said Mary slightly annoyed at her husband's lack of tact.

"I am not talking about food, Mary. I want to sample more of Elle's dreams, if they include an extra couple? There are two more days of this Easter weekend."

"I don't think I will survive another two days at this rate" stated Sherlock laughing nervously. "It seems a very long time since I actually went to bed planning to sleep!"

John obviously had something on his mind. "Have our responses been as your imagination had expected?" enquired the doctor of Elle.

"No, not really. You have reacted differently, more erotically than even I had ever hoped and thought."

"Why do you think that is?" John continued.

"As I said I'm no expert but I think it is bound up in the relationship you have with Sherlock, not me."

"My relationship? I am not screwing him!"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean the care, the respect and, yes, I will say it, the love you have for one another has enabled this foursome to work. You and Sherlock enjoyed a whole gamete of experiences together, well before Mary was on the scene, let alone me turning up less than three months ago, and you only meeting me two nights ago. Perhaps it is something of the dangerous line of your work together that makes the sparks fly off you."

"Do you think somewhere in them they want to make love to one another? I have often wondered, hearing John talking about Sherlock, how deep their relationship could or would have gone if circumstances were different, and I had not later been on the scene."

"Not sure Mary. I think John and Sherlock love each other in a different way. It is unspoken, unshared so far but understood. Had you not been on the scene, it may have been another woman with one of them, or, they may have had a dalliance into something else, potentially ruining their friendship. You are actually the linch-pin to all of this. The stability in your relationship with John has enabled their relationship to blossom even more without sexual awkwardness felt between two men who are not gay but evidently love one another."

"Are you saying you think if things had panned out differently, John and I could have potentially been lovers?" 

"Pragmatically, yes. The biggest issue, Sherlock, is trust. John trusts you and you him. You have both gone that extra mile to save one another. That is a lot for any relationship to carry."

"What about in my army days? Surely that was based on the same thing?"

"Possibly John. You have to know your colleague has got your back in an army scenario, but because there are 22 or 202 of you or however many, the trust between any two individuals is diluted. You and Sherlock were each other's strengths and weaknesses. Within days of you meeting, Sherlock told me you shot a man who was trying to hurt him. I had known him nearly three weeks before I did anything remotely special for him, and all I did was shag him, good as it was", she added.

"Sherlock and your blog told me about how he had to fake his own death to prevent a sniper from killing you instead. In doing so he had to lay low for a couple of years, change his life completely, leave his beloved Baker Street, all because some nutter had decided he was an equal to mentally battle with, and because he could not beat Sherlock decided to hurt him by hurting the ones closest to him. The closest of all was you, John."

"Where does that leave you? And me for that matter?" asked Mary tentatively.

"You have a close relationship with Sherlock, and an amazing marriage and relationship with John. That has not and should not be challenged. This is so very different. It has not been built on love or lust, but trust. Your relationship with Sherlock is more akin to that of him and John than yours with John. You trust Sherlock not to get your husband killed; Sherlock trusts you to look after his best friend, but your relationship with John grew out of admiration and then probably lust before you realised you loved him."

"Like us?" queried Sherlock.

"Similar. But I think we are still probably in the 'lust' part of our relationship."

Sherlock did not respond to this comment. Perhaps he did love Elle now, but this was not the time to spout it. The empty bowls, spoons and chopsticks were put in the dishwasher. The forks returned to the drawer, unused.

"What exactly is love then? asked John.

"I don't honestly know, John. I am not sure I have ever been truly in love, infatuated once, yes, but just to say you are very, very lucky because you are here with two people who love you dearly. Oh, and one who likes you a heck of a lot." She smiled as John bowed his head to her in acknowledgement.

"You keep avoiding the question Elle. Do you love Sherlock?" Mary persisted.

She looked across the room to that magnificent man, objectifying him. "I am very much 'in like' with him. He fascinates me and obviously I lust after him unashamedly. I think it is still too early in our relationship to decide it is love. I think the intensity of lust is disguising how much love there is or is not there yet."

"Is there anything we can do to move any of these feelings forwards?" asked Mary.

"There is something you and I could do, definitely. Ready for another impromptu session, or would you rather recover for a month?"

Sherlock glanced to John for affirmation, received via a nod, then spoke for both. "I think we're ready."

"Boys in Sherlock's room, girls in John's. Pyjama bottoms and robes only, sit on the bed. Mary and I will be with you in a minute."

"Which side of the bed should we be on this time?"

"It does not matter John."

After only five or six minutes the girls joined the guys in Sherlock's room again. Sherlock was on his side of the bed this time. Mary was wearing a smile of excitement and anticipation. The only thing that Elle brought additionally into the room was a stout jarred candle, not highly scented but to supply a flickering, dancing light to the proceedings. It was the only light source used and placed on the floor it cast a mesmeric curl of golden patterns on to the ceiling and walls. The two girls joined the boys on the bed. Crossing their legs the girls sat close together, the boys both sat up looking curious and extremely keen.

"Kiss me Sherlock" said Elle softly. He leaned forward and gave her a deep, loving kiss, holding her head back to make his control of this paramount. Subconsciously he knew he was trying to convey he was further ahead in their relationship than just 'lust'. Their lips released and he looked into her eyes, willing her to read him, to know he had fallen in love with her. He wanted to say so out loud but again this was not the time.

She leaned back as Mary said "Kiss me John". The husband and wife shared a similarly powerful, intimate moment.

First the surprise. Elle leaned forward again, open eyed with a friendly smile. "Kiss me John" she whispered. It was interesting his eyes flicked to Sherlock first as if looking for permission, not his wife. Both Sherlock and Mary looked on as John and Elle shared an intimate and passionate embrace but comparatively shallow kiss.

"Kiss me Sherlock" said Mary and the watchers moved to kiss one another. Sherlock had not looked to John or Elle to seek permission. Heated but soft Sherlock gave Mary a long caring kiss. The pair parted.

Now for the shock. Elle and Mary turned, sensuously wrapped their arms around one another and started, gently at first, kissing.

"Oh, shit" proclaimed John. A blast that felt like icicles had run down his spine, stimulating and shocking him in equal proportion to his core. This was turning him on more than he could imagine. It felt strange to see a woman kissing his wife, stranger than seeing his best friend do so, but he could not tear his eyes from them. Elle stroked Mary's petite breasts whilst Mary cupped one of Elle's more ample bosoms, stroking the nipple with her thumb. As the girls removed their robes, the guys looked on and automatically aped their action. Four robes finishing piled on the floor. Resistance defied Mary bent her head and suckled Elle's breast.

An aspirating groan to the side of him told John Sherlock was experiencing the same erotic sensations as him, but his eyes stayed glued, the girls still kissing, embracing, running their fingers through each other's hair, stroking the other's breasts. As they broke apart Elle put a finger to her lips to prevent either of the guys saying anything. 

Elle encouraged Sherlock to lie flat in the bed. Heads on the pillows John and Sherlock looked across to one another, Sherlock's eyes rolled upwards. Elle had slipped down the bed, removed his bottoms and taken his cock into her mouth. Mary again aping her moves with John. Sliding her hands underneath his backside Elle rolled Sherlock on to his left side, she and Mary were now back to back, the boys facing one another outside them.

Sherlock leaned across and stretched out his right hand and touched the war wound on his best friend's left shoulder, suddenly realising the intentions of the women. Tentatively sliding his fingers through the other man's hair, John pulled the top half of his body towards Sherlock and kissed him. It was received and returned willingly. Wrapped together the friends pleasured themselves on each other, staying on their sides stroking and kissing whilst their bodies were being subjected to greater stimulation from the girls. Both men reached climax quickly and nearly simultaneously, enveloped in the arms of the other.

John released Sherlock and rolled gently on to his back, his porcelain-skinned friend did the same. Glancing across John could see Sherlock's eyes were tightly closed. Was he trying to keep the moment, or banish it from thought? Elle sighed intensely as she released her mouth from around Sherlock and moved her head to lie on his stomach, which was still pulsating deeply, hollowing away nearly to the flat of his spine. His whole body seemed to tingle, lit from within, with the glisten of sweat exaggerating the exquisite contours of his frame.

Steadily the depth of Sherlock's breath deepened and the sound of air bubbled through this slightly open lips. He had fallen asleep. Feeling a movement near her Elle realised Mary and John had climbed gingerly from the bed, picked up their discarded robes and nightwear and moved to leave the room, Mary extinguishing the candle as she passed. 

Sherlock groaned softly and made to unconsciously move. Elle gave him even more space to find his position, lying on his right looking outward from the bed, then she curled up near but not touching behind him.


	8. Park and Q2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weather traps the four friends in Baker Street, sunshine invites the two couples to venture outside. Sherlock returns to the scene of his moment of passion with Elle, and decides to stay a few days...

Easter Monday, and this time the smell of fresh... bread? Elle rose, found her pyjama top, unworn the previous night, and put it and her robe on and headed into the kitchen. Mary was awake and once again in there, squeezing oranges; the bread was actually croissants, being warmed through in the oven. The coffee was reliably filtering away in the corner. It was nearly 10am.

"Morning Mary, sleep well?"

"Yes thank you. How about you?"

"Yes, fine. Thank goodness it is dry today. You have been out already; I smell something delicious."

"Only to the local supermarket for some croissants and provisions. You mentioned a possible picnic if it was nice so I picked up a selection of things we will hopefully all like. It is quite warm. I think it would be good to get out. I found a hamper - Mrs Hudson's I guess - under the stairs." 

"Where do you suggest?" 

"Let's think about it and compare ideas. I do not know this end of the City well except for the main parks."

"I will go and dress and be back shortly." Elle smiled then turned on her heel.

Mary went upstairs and into their bedroom, reappearing moments later. John was already stirring. 

Elle had gone into her bedroom to find it empty. The sound of running water from next door confirmed Sherlock was in the shower. She dressed, brushed her hair through, cleansed and moisturised her face and returned to the kitchen.

The girls were in conversation as Sherlock came in the room and headed straight to the lounge, picked up his mobile and began texting. Once sent, he re-joined the girls in the kitchen, smiled all round and took his place at the table. Coffee and warmed croissants were circulating by the time John joined his friends in buoyant mood. 

"Was that Mycroft you were texting? Have you read his dossier?" enquired Elle.

"Yes. I woke in the night, you were fast asleep, so I came in here to finish reading it. People call me a genius. Mycroft is far smarter than I am. Not as logical, analytical or observant maybe, but brains, you will never meet another like him. [The others in the room all thought they had!] He says he does a little job for the Government. He near as dammit is the Government, and treasured by any party in office. I often make the pretence not to be interested in work he offers as he makes me feel something like his lap-dog, but the fact is the majority of my most interesting and exciting cases have been ones Mycroft has involved me on."

"A lot of mutual admiration going on there then. I'm sorry, I didn't realise you could not sleep."

"No matter, I slept well earlier. I have been able to get information off to Mycroft which I hope will be sufficient use to him. He only wanted my opinion."

"Mary says it is warm outside, do you want to go out somewhere?"

"Sounds a good idea" replied the detective.

"What do you think about a day in Richmond Park? It's an area I know reasonably well, we could find a secluded spot to picnic, then go to my home. Both of my house mates are now away with family."

Slightly quietly and away from the others Sherlock said "Did you not wish to be with your family?"

"No Sherlock. I wanted to be here, with you" Elle softly responded.

"But you could have been with family elsewhere?"

"Yes, I could, but my Mum, sister and her husband are together, and they understand my request to miss a family gathering to spend some time with someone else." This whole conversation was taking place in animated whispers, so Mary and John could not hear.

"Why did you want to spend it with me though?"

"You offered!! Anyway, I just... wanted to... What do you expect me to say Sherlock? I wanted to be here with you because I love you?"

"Do you?"

"Damn you, yes, I think I do." Elle's voice slowed now from near frustration at his persistence to a barely audible whisper. "I think I've loved you for a while now, but tried to convince myself it was still only lust. It is so early in this relationship. I didn't want to be in love with you when I couldn't expect you to return that affection."

"But I do return it. I have wanted to and have nearly said it on a number of occasions now, none of which seemed the appropriate time but, Elle, [he paused, swallowing deeply] I love you."

"Any advance on Kew Gardens?" asked John, bringing both the lovers heavily back to Earth.

"I think Kew Gardens - being Easter Monday - will be absolutely rammed" said the local.

"Elle has suggested somewhere on Richmond Park. It is vast so we are guaranteed to find somewhere quiet and reasonably sheltered" added Sherlock, his brain refocussing after a moment of complete delirium and fuzziness.

"Great. Mary and I have prepared the picnic. Anything the matter?"

"No. Elle was just asking whether I'd replied to Mycroft yet. I finished looking at his dossier last night."

A PING on Sherlock's mobile refocused the owner's mind. "Mycroft is grateful but needs the dossier back now. He is sending a car over immediately to collect it. Damn. Means we will be a little later leaving. Sorry. See what I mean by lap-dog?"

"Could we ask Mycroft's driver to drop us off into Richmond Park? We could call for a cab when we are ready to leave?"

"Great idea Elle. I seem to always be doing favours for my elder brother, now he can do one for me, indirectly." Sherlock immediately started texting again.

PING "Yes, no problem, his driver will drop us off wherever we wish, then take the dossier back to him."

The car arrived outside the door of 221B and the driver knocked. Between them the friends carried a picnic hamper, cool box, blanket, the Watsons' luggage, Elle's tote, incorporating Sherlock's wash-bag, and the dossier to the car and clambered in, re-exiting the car along a very secluded part of Richmond Park south west near Ham Gate. There was a soft breeze but the location, scouted and suggested by Elle, was very sheltered and warm. The four friends sat, ate, drank and talked; Elle and Sherlock then lying in the long slightly damp grass kissing. It was a perfectly peaceful way to conclude an extraordinary long weekend.

As 6pm drew close the air around them most definitely chilled and it was getting dark rapidly. The picnic was packed away and Elle phoned a local taxi firm to take them to Kew. She invited them in as she flicked the heating on to ALL DAY, emptied the picnic hamper of rubbish and dirty pots and washed those, stacking them on the draining board. She read a post-it note from Emma, one of her house mates, saying an electrician had been in a couple of days earlier to check on a couple of pieces of equipment in the house that were showing signs of fault on their meter. Elle dismissed the note without thought.

A few minutes later she rejoined the group in the lounge, who were admiring some black and white photographs scattered around the walls, with a filtered jug of coffee, some milk and sugar, and a box of chocolate mints; they had eaten more than ample from the delights in the picnic.

"Wow. I love these photographs Elle" said Mary. "Were they bought from some art gallery? They are really beautiful." 

"No. Photography is a hobby of mine. My late father was a professional - architectural mainly. Much preferred film and black and white to digital colour. I got the bug watching him many years ago shading prints in an enlarger using his hands, and when the opportunity arose I set myself up with a small darkroom. It's in the attic here. I will show you after coffee if you like?"

"You mean you have taken these pictures?" asked John, sounding almost astonished.

"Yes. And mounted them. Thankfully the other girls like them too or they would not have made the wall. There are some more all the way up the stairs, and in my bedroom." 

"What are the photographs of in her bedroom, Sherlock?" John quizzed the detective, knowing his power of observation is renowned, and fishing for confirmation he had been in there.

"I remember there being three photographs in a row, all the same size. I cannot say I recall the content of any of them." He smiled wryly at his friend, understanding his objective. "I wasn't there to enjoy the scenery John. By then I had something more pressing on my mind." Elle giggled slightly embarrassed at this. How very strange. 

Sharing very intimate moments with John and Mary had been one thing, a lovely thing, but discussing a moment, that moment, the time she and Sherlock first made love together, it seemed too personal somehow, at this time. "One is of the London skyline at night, another is the Pagoda in Kew Gardens and, my favourite, is of hump-back whale flukes, descending into the ocean, taken two years ago off the west coast of Canada when my two house mates and I were there together" she explained, deftly segueing the subject as far from that glorious first time as possible.

Coffees drunk and chocolate mint box decimated, all the friends went upstairs, admiring four more of Elle's black and white photographs on the walls as they ascended. Elle invited them into her bedroom and they saw the identically-sized row of photos of nighttime London, pagoda and flukes she had described earlier. These too were dutifully admired. John took a deep breath, knowing he stood in the room where his best friend had rediscovered passion and sex.

Turning the group around she told them to go up the next staircase, where four further pictures were to be seen, opening a door on to a small darkroom. A perfect darkroom: a table with the enlarger on it, plus a long metal table with three currently empty developer trays, all marked and lined up ready to go should she want to; a small sink; chemicals stored safely away and photo-paper, wrapped in black plastic and boxed, of different sizes in a rack; even the 1970s cliche of a fine washing line for negatives to dry was set out. There was a small refrigerator for film. In the furthest corner was a large cabinet. Elle explained most of her camera equipment, other than the oversized enlarger, was stored and locked in there, along with her negatives and proofs. Sherlock was looking intently around the room, as though he was thinking about something.

Another about turn and the friends went back down into the lounge.

Offering drinks both Sherlock and John said they would like something long and cold, and Elle provided a can of lager and glass for each. Mary fancied something stronger than that, eventually settling on a Gin and tonic with ice and lemon. Elle made herself a Pernod with Coke and ice. Again the group sat and talked the time away when Mary commented it was 10:40pm and they - she and John - ought to be making tracks homeward.

Sherlock suggested they could all go back and stay at Baker Street again, Elle that they could stay as there was a spare bedroom next to the darkroom, but the Watsons said they felt they ought to go home to Hampstead and thanked both Sherlock and Elle for the most unexpected and exciting Easter weekend. Elle rang for a taxi. Before they had left Sherlock had invited them both to come 'if they wanted to' back to Baker Street next weekend. Plans were set in place for John and Mary to join them Friday evening. After the other couple left, Elle asked Sherlock whether he wanted to return to Baker Street himself.

"No. I am happy to stay here, if that is all right."

"Of course it is. You are just further away from the action should you be needed in Central London by your friend Lestrade."

"It is not that far by cab and anyway, this is the action I want to be near, with you, here, now. Would you like to show me your bedroom again?"

"Oh, Sherlock" she breathed, "I thought I had a new insatiable appetite for love making since knowing you, but I'm wondering whether you out-strip me." She kissed his mouth feverishly.

"I want you to take full control of me. Do with me as you will. Make love to me Elle. I have always treated my body as though its primary function is transport and protection for my brain, but you have opened my eyes to pleasures I did not understand and I want more."

"I hope your mind is as open as your eyes" Elle whispered, even though they were now the only ones in this Kew town house. Elle removed Sherlock's small wash-bag from her tote, it contained a toothbrush and electric shaver - that would do for now. Elle climbed the stairs ahead of him. She led the way into the wet room, where she gave him some extra towels from the airing cupboard outside the door. Sherlock stripped and got into the shower levelling the water at his shoulders keeping his hair dry. Elle brushed her teeth then her hair whilst he was showering, banding, then coiling and pinning her ponytail out of the way so she could shower too. The lovers swapped places, she in the shower, he cleaned his teeth, then ran the electric shaver over his chiselled features.

By the time she entered the bedroom, wearing a towelling robe of deepest purple Sherlock was already in bed. She pulled the tie cord out through the loops and brought it with her to the bed. Over to the window she collected the two pale green-coloured curtain ties as well.

"I want to tie you up, Sherlock." Her voice cracked as she said it. Looking deep into his grey-green eyes she saw them dilate significantly at these words then he closed them. Turning on a side light and switching off the main, she moved in on her man. Wrapping her towelling robe cord around a bed post, Elle tied Sherlock's feet individually, then together giving him wriggle-room only. A deep intake of breath told her this alone had caused him to be turned on at the idea. He was already struggling against his bindings to see just how trapped he was. 

The curtain ties were a little more complicated being a continuous loop. On to each bedpost end she wrapped a tie around pulling it through and then against itself. She then created a loop then a second in one tie, putting the second loop through the first so it was a sliding knot but would lock off. She tightened this around Sherlock's wrist. Repeating these steps she tied his other wrist too. Then, with a large folded dark green silk handkerchief, dampened from the fresh water in the carafe on her bedside table, she blindfolded him laying it across his eyes. 

Making sure he was warm and covered she left the room, returning with a pitcher of iced cold water, and a long spoon. She put on a loose button-through bed-shirt, no undies, her hair still pinned so it would not touch him. Throwing the cover back off him, she straddled herself across his legs then fished one ice cube out of the pitcher on the bedside table with the spoon, took it in hand, and glided it gently over his lips. 

He had reacted to the noise when she clinked the pitcher with the spoon to capture the ice. There was a soft gasp from him as the first freezing splash touched skin. Running it across his forehead, then down his right cheekbone, over his lips again [another gasp] and up the left cheekbone she held the cube above his face, letting it melt from the heat of her hand, dripping on to his eyelids through the blindfold, the bridge of his nose and again his mouth.

That cube now melted she selected a second and traced the line of his jaw, going down his throat and finding the mole she had fallen in love with over a month or so ago. Once wet from the ice she then licked and kissed his throat, all the time he smiled as he struggled in vain against his bonds. Across his shoulders and along his clavicle bones, delineating his form in water droplets she continued. Surprised to find his breathing long and deep at the moment, another ice cube was removed from the pitcher. Her own breath was shortening by the second.

This time she exercised caution as, for the first time, she touched somewhere really delicate. Circling on the areola she traced one of the cubes around his left nipple, then moved it to the right as she licked the ice water off the first. Finally his breathing was starting to go shallow. His head back on the pillow he lay quite relaxed, thinking. His body was obviously hot because that cube did not last and a further ice crystal was removed from the water this time held high again, to dribble on his chest. His body contorted from the shock of the icy droplets, especially when she went back to his face and let it drip again on to his lips and unseeing eyes.

Another cube, two stuck together in fact, was called for next. These were the lucky ice cubes. Rubbing both her hands (cooled from handling the pitcher) on his body to disorientate him he felt the ice touch his sternum then travel southwards to his navel. How she was doing this was holding the ice between her teeth. His stomach suddenly hollowed. As she had doused his navel with this piece of ice she had breathed out slowly adding extra air to the coldness, chilling him, him sighing.

"You are teasing me Elle."

She took the ice out of her mouth. "You think? You don't need to be a great detective to come to that conclusion."

"Take me."

"I am not done playing with you yet. Don't start without me."

"Start without you? As things stand at the moment I am tachycardic and cold. There is a real good possibility I will have finished before you join this party."

Her eyes glanced down as she returned the quickly melting cubes to her mouth. He was very erect now. Taking hold of his form she rubbed a cube on the end of his cock, never letting it stop. He was shaking and his breaths were now short and insubstantial. As the dual-cube decreased in size she took it, and him, into her mouth, keeping the cubes moving with her tongue until the heat from her mouth and him in it turned them to ice water. She swallowed. Using the numbness from the ice she took more of him, even deeper than she had ever done before, sucking his length as she retracted back to the head, using her teeth gently over his glans to the point of freedom from her lips. 

The groan of ecstasy from him spurred her on to take this further. She climbed on him, placing him inside her easing her way down his shaft, her head dropping back, the louder groan now emanating from her. Gently rolling her hips around mid axis she could move him within her. Changing the pattern from clockwise, to anti-clockwise then to a figure of eight, changing the angle of her pelvis to suit her mood and his reaction she eventually found she could hold off no more. Sliding her hands up his chest she pressed her bare breasts against his torso and found his lips with hers, throwing off his blindfold as she began to rise and fall on him fast, clenching her pelvic floor muscles as though her life depended on it.

He was panting now. Her hands were now holding his wrists, she was starting the second or maybe third of what was likely to be a string of orgasms. He balled his fists.

"Re... release me" he panted, barely audibly. "Let my arms go." He was getting close to orgasm and wanted her, using his superior strength to take her.

"No Sherlock. I'm going to do with you as I will. You asked me to take control of you, and that is exactly what I intend to do." Elle's next wave of orgasm rippled over her. She got her arms away from him again, lifted her chest off his and bending from the hips pushing her shoulders back until her arms were almost straight, dropping her head backwards at the neck she let out a dramatic sigh. He was groaning loudly still straining against his bonds. Rolling her head forward again and fixing him with a full-eyed open stare she said "You're mine, Sherlock Holmes" and pumped her hips and thighs up and down over him until his eyes lost focus, closed and he released a deep rumbling sigh from within him as he climaxed, tensing all his musculature against the bindings. She too faltered as she orgasmed again. His phallus pumped all the seed out of itself into her.

She released his wrists immediately. Instead of worrying about releasing his feet he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly, kissing and touching and stroking her. Using her feet adeptly as she had demonstrated before she pulled the duvet back up the bed so far until she could reach with a hand, and covered them both, cuddling into him. 'She has amazing foot control' he thought, smiling, wondering.

"That was remarkable. My whole body felt enhanced to your touch. Being constrained caused conflicting sensations of both vulnerability and power. The coldness of the ice pinpointed my brain to your location, heightening my longing and desire for you by whichever part of my body you were visiting. The depravation of sight hugely concentrated my other senses and I was getting erotically stimulated listening and imagining well before you touched me, predicting what you were going to be doing next."

"Did you get any of it right?"

"No, because just after you had rubbed an ice cube around my nipples I started thinking you would be getting to my cock shortly, and from that moment on I could think of nowhere else. Sorry, men are so boring. I enjoyed every second, especially the confusion with the feel of both hands, then controlled movement of an ice cube. I guessed it was in your mouth from that point on?"

"It was. It is not only me who likes things on ice then?" He kissed her smile.

"Got any left?"

"Yes, but they are melting fast." Sherlock sat up leaning forward.

"Run one down my back." Elle took a couple of shrinking cubes out the pitcher with the spoon again and, palm flat with ice between, ran her hand over his shoulder blades, down his spine, between his hips and back up and around until the whole of his back showed signs of goose pimples. He rolled over to lie flat on his front, his arms bent above the top of his head.

She thought he had fallen asleep but he then turned his head towards her, raising himself slightly with one arm. "I think I need to have some fun with some more ice. You had better relax and, maybe, wear this." He placed the handkerchief over her eyes now. She felt his weight lift from the bed, he must have untied his own feet whilst she iced his back, heard him go down then come back upstairs, dropping a number of ice cubes into the pitcher. He had obviously brought them up inside a glass because his first tease was to place the glass to her lips for a little sip of the ice water.

She heard him drinking water too, lots of it. Her wrists were not tied but she had no intention of removing the blindfold. Noises away from her meant he was up to something but she did not know what. Her breaths were already erratic just imagining what Sherlock could be doing. She understood what he meant. The duvet removed, a spoon again clinked in the pitcher then he dropped a cube into her hand. Surprised she cupped the other to it holding the ice as it melted and dripped on to her breasts.

In that moment Sherlock had used the towelling robe cord he had evidently removed from the bed post and tied her wrists tightly together. Using the top beam of the bedstead as a fulcrum he winched her arms above her head. Lying vulnerable and wanting she moaned with anticipation. Another ice cube was collected from the jug and Sherlock ran it around her left nipple, he then did the same to the right nipple whilst he licked the water off her first dampened breast as she had done to him. 

This new ice was serving him better than the cubes had done for her on his preheated torso. These were still a good size and the same found its destiny in her navel where he placed it and let it melt to a pool of ice water. He then slipped his tongue into her navel and lapped up the liquid.

One thing she was unsure of was where Sherlock was. She had not felt his body's weight re-distort the memory foam so she presumed he must be off-bed somehow. As her mind was puzzling she felt him slide an ice cube inside her, incorporating two fingers in the move, making them ensure the cube never rested, spinning her mind out of control. She felt the melted water disperse from inside her. Trembling, desperate for him, she started to whisper his name, though it came away from her lips in broken stabs.

The blindfold was flicked away from her face and he pulled her up by the wrists and set her to kneel on the rug at the side of the bed. Taking the robe cord around the far post of the bed he returned to the same side as her and pulled. It stretched her body and arms across the bed leaving her kneeling against it. With an ice cube now in his teeth Sherlock let the water drip on to her back. It melted fast from the warmth of his mouth and breath and a mini cascade fell on her pearlised skin. Releasing the tension on the cord he helped her lift her shoulders from the bed so the water trickled in a line down her spine and between her bottom cheeks. The gasp from her was deep, inviting and total, her back re-coiling once, then again. Just as it was happening again Sherlock pulled tight on the cord flattening her against the bed again, and entered her from behind.

This was the price for controlling him, she, now totally at his mercy, being stretched across the bed, him behind her, also kneeling, ramming her loins so completely, his hand pressing on her back to keep her flat, his other keeping tension on the cord. Her gasps were getting louder as the croaked word "more" floated from her lips. The intensity for both of the lovers was such this form of love- or more truthfully lust-making was not going to last long. His thrusts became shorter and more shallow as he closed exponentially to his second orgasm of the night. Her body, in total contraction, begging him for more shuddered, encouraging the penetration until neither had breath nor strength. More seed left his body, this time his phallus softening nearly immediately. She closed her eyes.

Sherlock released the cord, slipping away from her and Elle's body dropped so her bottom was on her heels, she grabbed the duvet as she collapsed, exhilarated and exhausted on to the floor.

She turned her head to this naked Adonis of a man collapsed at the side of her, exhausted but smiling, every ounce of energy in his body spent. Ensuring his body was covered by the duvet too, she curled up near him, happy to stay tethered, happy to stay on the floor. "I love you Sherlock" she whispered. No reaction was detected from the detective; he must have fallen asleep.


	9. Q Playtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun on their own at her place, then back to Baker Street. With Mrs Hudson's approval Sherlock begins to enjoy life's new arrangements.

Elle woke back in bed, hands untied, with the breath of Sherlock falling over her shoulders as he curled, spoon-fashioned, behind her sleeping soundly. The next two days the lovers spent more and more time in each other's arms than apart. Taking advantage of them being the only people in the house, enjoying intimate moments on the sofa, against the kitchen counter and further experiences in her wet room where, once again in the shower, Sherlock made an unusual and unexpected request. "Bite me."

"Pardon? Are you serious? I don't want to mark you."

"It will fade, quite quickly if you do not break the skin." With her lifted in the shower, her legs again around his back, she opened her mouth wide on his collarbone and pressed her teeth against his skin, sucking said flesh in her mouth. 

The whole house had been their playground. However, one place more than any other they were most certainly destined for.

From the moment Elle had shown Sherlock, John and Mary her darkroom, Sherlock had been subconsciously thinking about how he was going to make love to her in there. A moment availed itself early Wednesday afternoon when Elle noticed one of the many green parakeets that live around Kew settled on some trellis in the back garden. With her keen photographer's head on she quietly crept out of the room and up to the attic to get one of her cameras. Sherlock followed slightly behind her. She was getting ready to load the camera with black and white film when Sherlock entered the darkroom. She was about to scold him for opening the door with the 'do not enter' lamp on outside when, in the little light in the room she noticed the look in his eyes. The camera, film, bird and trellis were all forgotten as he lifted her on to her metal table, and stood in front of her between her knees.

"How strong is this table?" he whispered, kissing her, enjoying the soft orange hue in the room.

"Not sure." She was running her fingers through his hair, him burying his face against her bosom.

Breathlessly he replied, "I think we need to find out."

"I think you're right. Oh God, Sherlock." He removed the developer trays from the table then placed his hands shoulder-width apart on it and lifted his feet carefully off the floor. The table was unfazed. Dropping back on to his feet he walked around to Elle, pulled off her jumper, unclipped her bra - how he had mastered that! - and laid her flat on the metal. She sighed deeply as her back and shoulders touched the cold steel. He then undid her jeans and unceremoniously pulled them off, throwing them to the floor, she ripping at her own undies taking them down over her hips, flicking them to the floor with a foot. He then removed both his loose shirt and t-shirt and agilely lifted his weight on to the table. Kneeling between her legs he undid his Chino's and let them and his pants drop to just above his knees. All this table analysis and arranging was foreplay in itself and they were both more than ready when he entered her. 

The metal table groaned buckling noises as he moved deeper but the structure was steadfast and taking their pressure commendably. Their bodies entwined feeding off one another, kissing and stroking each other, forcing their flesh together, orgasmically writhing to the point of complete and utter exhaustion. Dripping with sweat Sherlock ran his fingers through his own hair as he pulled himself away from her, turned and sat on the edge of the table and dropped to his feet, pulling up his pants and Chino's as he straightened. Simultaneously both Elle and the metal table sighed. Sherlock took her hand and helped her to a seating position. She then turned through 90 degrees, so her legs dangled over the side and she too lowered herself to her feet, collecting her clothes and followed Sherlock out of the room, turning off the light as she headed into her bedroom to re-dress. 

The evening after dinner was spent sitting on the sofa, leaning back to back, both lying, or sitting side by side. They talked and wiled away the time just being together. Stroking him absent-mindedly Elle realised it was close to 2am so the lovers headed to bed. They slipped into the bedcovers naked. Again this night would not be just about sleep. Cuddling one another, stimulated immediately on the other's touch, they kissed and caressed and devoured each other until they could take it no longer.

"Now Sherlock, now." Elle's breathless plea directly into his ear was as erotic an event Sherlock had ever heard. He felt a boiling heat conduct swiftly throughout his body.

"You want me?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes, now." She was starting to pant.

"Tell me what you want Elle."

"God, why are you teasing me? I want you, Sherlock, yes, now, yes, inside me, hard, fast, deep, everything. I want all of you. Just f..." Getting more and more breathless with every word, Elle released a bed-shaking groan as Sherlock finally fulfilled her wish.

"I just wanted to make sure" he said bearing his weight down on and inside her, a cheeky grin on his face.

"You wanted me to beg."

"I wanted you to beg."

"Hit me Sherlock."

"No."

"Hurt me."

"I... I can't."

"I want more of you." This was not love making as the couple usually knew it. This was unadulterated, lustful and dirty sex.

"God, what planet are you on at this minute?" he asked moments later as she had tightened her legs around his, dug her nails into his shoulder blades and roared like a wild cat at the top of her lungs.

"I don't know but you are coming with me." At that she used all the strength she could muster to move herself from under him and, staying latched together, rolled him on to his back, pulled her knees up and straddled her man, pushing herself down his length then withdrawing slightly, only to slam down on him again. They were both moaning and groaning together now. 

This was pure animal. They were both trying to take control, both trying to take the lead, both wanting more and more of the other. They rolled, and rolled again. Sherlock bent his head low to kiss her breast but when he could not suckle the nipple he was after he sucked hard on the skin he could reach, causing a bruise to be seen almost instantaneously. Never before were either of them so vocal in their love making.

Elle positively screamed aloud again, and pulling away slightly found it was Sherlock taking the reins, and forcefully this time. "OH NO YOU DON'T" he shouted as he pumped himself inside her, her on her back again now, her thighs locked around the outside of his, he put his hand around her throat and his tongue deep in her mouth as he went into an explosive orgasm with every muscle and tendon in his body taut and rigid. 

"Oh, shit" he exhaled, finally releasing his hand from her throat. His whole body went from taut to slack and totally exhausted. Both of them glistened with sweat. He placed his lips so surprisingly gently on hers it was difficult to believe it was the same man whom she had been writhing around with only moments before. 

Asleep before they knew, her closing whispered word on this assignation: "Sherlock."

\- * -

The sound of a PING stirred the pair. It was just after 9am and they had both slept through. She reached his mobile off the bedside table and passed it to him.

"Lestrade" he said. "Needs John and I on a case. I need to go." He climbed straight out of bed and hit the shower. Coming back into the room a few moments later, drying his hair, another towel slung around his hips he smiled. "Want to meet me back at Baker Street later?"

"OK. Will I be able to get in?"

"I will let Mrs Hudson know of your imminent arrival. She should have arrived back last night. If not, I will text you and leave my keys at Speedy's cafe." He picked up his phone. "Hello, Lestrade. I have texted John. Do you want to meet us both at Baker Street in an hour?... No, no sooner, I am not there and neither is John. Come in an unmarked car and we will come directly with you. Do you have any further details yet?...OK. See you there." Dressing quickly, he smiled, looking at Elle, still prostrate in bed. "Got to go. A new case beckons. Grizzly by the sound of it. Bring some changes of clothes, I would like you to stay a while." He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. There was a knock at the door. "Any idea who that might be?" he asked wondering who he might be about to bump into on his exit from her Kew home.

"Your taxi to Baker Street" she smiled, waving her mobile at him. He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, mouthed silently [thank you], winked, and was gone. 

Forty minutes later he got out and paid the cab driver. He opened the front door and Mrs Hudson was standing just behind it. "Hello Sherlock. Anything wrong?"

"No Mrs Hudson" he said smiling, holding her at both shoulders he kissed her cheek, "nothing is wrong, nothing at all. I hope you had a good Easter weekend. Lestrade is picking me up in just over quarter of an hour. Got a murder. John will be arriving shortly too. He has his key. That reminds me, I would like an extra set of keys, please, for the door and my flat if that is possible."

"It is still indecent how happy you get over a case, especially if it is a murder."

"That is not the only reason to be happy. Oh by the way Mrs Hudson, a lady by the name of Elle Jensen will be arriving in the next couple of hours or so; please make her welcome. She knows where everything is. I will talk to you more when I get back." He disappeared up into his flat.

Moments later the door of 221B opened again, this time John Watson had let himself in, and alongside him was DI Lestrade, having arrived outside the flat in a car within seconds of the other man. As they entered the lounge Sherlock came out from his bedroom, properly shaven and smartly suited wearing a pale green shirt, wrapping his blue scarf around his neck.

"Thank you Sherlock. We have been following leads into this for just over 24 hours, finally finding a body in the early hours of this morning. I think it will be right up your street. It sounds like some sort of torture has been performed but we do not know which order the victim was tortured in." Lestrade was now totally accepting of the fact that if he could gain no clue from a crime scene, then he knew a man who more than probably could. The fact a medical doctor tagged along with that man added to the assistance the pair could supply the police, with John's superior knowledge of gunshot and mutilation wounds from his time at war.

Sherlock took his Belstaff coat off the back of the flat door and the three men descended the stairs and left with Sherlock calling "Later Mrs Hudson" as he closed the outside door behind them.

Arriving at the crime scene the two friends walked in with Lestrade and made their way over to the body. The room was empty and incredibly hot. John commented that the perpetrator may have made the room hot to disguise the time of death. John removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves whilst Sherlock pulled his scarf off and took off his coat, hanging it inside out over a bannister outside the room. Squatting next to his kneeling friend and the body Sherlock looked intently at the victim. His calculating mind and observation skills kicked into gear and he was part way through drawing a full résumé of the scene when John looked at him, gasped and whispered loudly "Sherlock!"

"What's the matter John? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You have a deep red mark on your clavicle. What have you been doing?"

"Damn, I didn't think anyone would see it, not thinking I would need to take off my scarf or coat in this inclement weather."

"What caused it?"

"Elle. She bit me."

"Bit you? Why, for goodness sakes?"

"Because I asked her to" came the insouciant answer. He half-smiled.

Ten minutes later, scarf back on hiding his own evidence, Sherlock and John exited the room and building carrying their coats. Sherlock had passed over his findings to Lestrade and John had confirmed the smell of almonds on the breath of the victim and petechial haemorrhaging demonstrated they had been partially asphyxiated and fed cyanide, probably in crystal form, and in that order prior to finally being stabbed three times. John also concurred with Sherlock's reasoning: the detective had explained the weapon would have been something fine like a screwdriver rather than anything bladed, so although the murder was planned - the cyanide confirming that, the actual cause of death had been spur of the moment, maybe death by cyanide was just taking too long, or maybe too loud, requiring the silencing of the victim by stabbing. The time of death would be confirmed by the mortician but John guessed around 28 hours, looking at the body decomposition and considering the heat of the room.

Many thanks for the leads they had given, Lestrade offered to get both men driven home once a couple of his detectives had finished their own analysis and evidence collection. This gave the friends time to talk.

"Just tell me one thing Sherlock, how many more times have you and Elle screwed each other since Mary and I left you Monday evening?"

"Six, seven, maybe eight I think. Not sure. Why do you ask?"

"You are obsessed with it. How have you got any energy left for work?"

"You did not seem to mind us being obsessed when you and Mary were participating. Anyway I have energy enough. I don't need my brain to 'screw' as you put it. I slept right through last night, after making love, of course." Sherlock grinned as John jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow and both men giggled like a pair of little schoolboys who had uttered a rude word for the first time.

"Anyone could have seen that bite. Lestrade even. What exactly would you have told him? He is no mug, Sherlock, he would have guessed it was a bite not an errant error with a razor blade or something."

"Then I would have told him I have a girlfriend and she bit me in the throes of passionate and sensational love making. She loves me John. She told me. I was semi-conscious at the time, but there are some things that cut through even the deepest of sleep."

"And just how do you feel about her?"

"I love her John. Yes. And I have told her before you ask."

"And are you certain it is not still just lust as Elle was saying when we were talking only a few nights' ago?"

"I think we are both certain. Sure the sex is still very dominant, and unbelievable, but it is there mainly as an enhancement of our relationship. She loves me for who I am, John. This unfeeling, obnoxious, irritating, uncaring as you have said to me before, wreck of a human with a keen intellect and analytical mind, has become more understanding and appreciative of the normal things in life, all because of her." He smiled honestly at his friend.

John suddenly heard words he recalled from Lestrade on an early meeting with him. 'Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day, if we are very very lucky, he might even be a good one.' Perhaps that day had come.

Just under an hour later Sherlock was dropped off by the police outside Baker Street in another unmarked car and opened the door to hear hilarity from the rooms above. Bounding up the stairs quickly he found Elle and Mrs Hudson in a fit of the giggles: the women obviously enjoying each other's company. Mrs Hudson went to get up on the emergence of her tenant but he gestured for her to stay. He went straight into his bedroom and returned dressed back in his Chino's and a round-necked sweatshirt, looking slightly tired.

"John's gone back to Hampstead, he and Mary will be coming over tomorrow night for the weekend so there will be four of us up here."

"John and Mary will be here? How lovely" said Mrs Hudson. "Such a lovely couple. Elle, have you met John and Mary? I wish Sherlock had a girlfriend, or something. Four of you?"

"I have!" Sherlock walked over to Elle, balanced on the chair arm and kissed her, then looked back to see Mrs Hudson's face look slightly abashed and surprised. "Mrs Hudson, you cannot be shocked. The first time John arrived here you wondered whether we would need both bedrooms!" 

Elle could not help it and laughed out loud.

"Sorry dear. When I was talking to you earlier I did not realise you were Sherlock's girlfriend. I thought you were a client. You cheeky boy, you kept that quiet. How did you meet?" Sherlock gestured to Elle and she took up the story.

"I was a client Mrs Hudson. My ex-boss disappeared and I asked for Sherlock's services to help find him. It turned out he was embezzling money we had earned as a company together and was about to abscond and leave the country with it. When all was over Sherlock and I realised we enjoyed being with one another so spent more and more time together and things blossomed from there."

"Well, enjoy it. Nothing better than young love. I remember being really in love too, once; early 'sixties it was. Oh, too many years ago now to even admit to... before I met my husband. Oh! Just hope you are taking precautions?"

"Mrs Hudson, you are as bad as my mother. She said that when Mycroft told her that I was 'dating'. We are fine. Elle and I are, well, in love with one another." He glanced in his lady's direction smiling.

"Oh, how lovely. I will leave you to it... err I mean, I will leave you to get on...no. Oh, I am making this worse. You know what I mean. I am sorry. Good night both of you. Lovely to have met you Elle. I do like her Sherlock." 

Elle looked quizzically at Sherlock as Mrs Hudson departed. "What makes you think I love you Sherlock?"

"You do. I heard you say so, two nights' ago."

"God, you were awake? I thought you were sleeping."

"I was sleeping, but special things like that can penetrate any dream. Would you have not said it if you knew I could hear you?"

"Sherlock - I love you. Awake or asleep makes no difference to me. I love you in my sleep so why not tell you in yours!"

"You are quite the romantic - that may take some getting used to. Mrs Hudson approves so that is all well and good. [His voice softened] I love you too. More than I ever imagined I could love anyone."

"Thank you. I have something for you."

"What?" he queried. Elle knelt down in front of him, raised her face up to his and kissed him so sweetly and passionately. "Take me, take me now. Here. Now" he whispered as his breathing became furious and shallow.

"Come into the bedroom. We can get into this properly."

"OK. But I would have liked it here."

"Why? Are you not worried Mrs Hudson might catch us? Or is that it? Do you want to be seen?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't know, maybe. It does make it feel extra special if there is an element of danger."

"Is that why you love your job so much?"

"Partly."

"And partly because you are a high functioning sociopath who likes to show everyone what a clever genius you are?"

"That too. I do not feel I need to perform for your interest or adulation Elle."

"No, but maybe I can 'perform' for yours." She undid his belt and trousers and pulled his hips forwards so he was on the edge of his seat, leaning him backwards, his legs akimbo. One hand into his boxer briefs and his softish manhood was coaxed into her mouth, hardening rapidly. With eyes closed and breathing through pursed lips Sherlock put his hand on the back of Elle's head to help her go deeper on him. 

Drawing her tongue from shaft root, slowly and steadily to around the glans and then to the tip, she used all the technique she knew to bring him close without taking him actually over the edge. Incorporated in her oral assault was gentle but increasing speed and pressure from her right hand, then both hands, manipulating him, astounding him, stimulating him until he exhaled long and loud, whispering her name.

"Bedroom?" she whispered back as her lips released him.

"Bedroom" he agreed. "Now." The urgency was apparent in his voice. He was obviously a lot closer than she had intended to take him. He positively bounded out the chair to the bedroom. Elle guarded the fire, turned off the light, and made her way to him in the bedroom.

He was already on the bed, wearing only his briefs and an expectant look. "Sherlock, do you know what soixante-neuf is?"

"Yes, sixty-nine in French."

"Gosh, you really are out of this world aren't you? I mean in sex-speak?"

"No idea. Tell me."

"No, but I will show you." His innocence was still difficult for her to comprehend in a lover so undeniably skilled. It was difficult to accept he had not made love or wanted to make love to anyone for over half his life since the dalliances in his teenage years, and now he did not seem to want to go a day without it. Catching up on missed opportunities? Maybe, Elle thought. Yet he was still so naive.

She sat on the edge of the bed and tapped the place aside her. Sherlock scrambled up using his hands and moved to sit along side. She undressed, standing to drop her undies to the floor. She then got him to stand and do the same. Guiding him to sit down on the bed edge again she held his hand and lowered him until his back was flat on the bed. Lying on her side on the bed herself she presented her sexuality to him at head height, at the same time taking him into her mouth again. Sherlock rolled on to his hip. He understood the concept now. Placing a hand over her hip and on to her backside he held her tightly as his tongue sashayed between her clitoris and inside her, intoxicatingly stimulating her to orgasm with ease whilst she worked on him further down the bed.

"Together" he suggested finally. Letting him escape her lips she nodded. He turned himself around so his head was now also at the bottom of the bed. She raised one of her knees and he took advantage to glide himself within her. More in control now than he had been half an hour ago in the lounge, he started to lever his body up and down through pushes of his hips. Feeling equal intensity in himself, he knew this session would be short, all control abandoned he increased his rocking movements to thrusts, but then he suddenly stopped. 

Beneath him Elle was having such an intense orgasm already and her internal muscles were spasming extraordinarily. Enjoying the sensation he realised he could follow her from these movements from her alone. Just lying within her his orgasm crescendoed and an overwhelming surge of heat enveloped him.


	10. The visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mistaken identity reveals Sherlock's secret

Daylight flickered from behind the curtains and Sherlock woke to find Elle's head propped on her arm looking at him.

"Hi" he said.

"Hi."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Only a few minutes."

"You have just been lying there, watching me sleep?"

"Yes. You look so peaceful. I am happy just being near you like this. You really are very beautiful."

"Androgynous is a word I hear behind my back. Except from Mycroft; he is quite happy to say it to my face."

"Brothers are like that to one another. Very grounding and severest critics of one another."

"True! Do you have a brother?"

"No, one sister, but sisters are very similar. They are honest and loyal, loving but sometimes too truthful. I adore mine, though as teenagers, we hated being near each other. Do you get on well with Mycroft?"

"Usually, but he always seems to expect me to drop everything whenever he needs me. He is a most intelligent man, but a frustrating one. We have little in common outside both of us being classed as 'brainy', and family of course. He is quite a bit older than me and insists on calling me his 'little' brother, which infuriates me, which is, of course, why he continues to do it. He is a bit of an enigma, but at the end of the day he's my brother and I love him." This was a lot more than Elle had expected after her innocuous questioning. She felt she probably had better insight into Mycroft than she knew about Sherlock himself.

She began to stroke his chest, then snuggled down with her head on his shoulder running her hand up and down his arm and shoulder gently dabbing kisses on his marblesque torso. "I do love touching you. Your body is human perfection."

"I think you're exaggerating a little but thank you. I love you touching me. Your touch can make all my senses tingle."

"Would you like to tingle some more?" Though her eyes had narrowed he could see Elle's pupils had dilated significantly.

"Do you want me?"

"I always want you Sherlock." The pair rolled over and now he was more over her, she on her back. The room felt cool so she pulled the covers up over his shoulders. His lips touched hers and with the sweetest of enticements with his tongue she opened her mouth a little so her mouth and kiss could be penetrated by his, meanwhile the same was happening lower. A rumbling sigh expunged from her and a curling smile softened her features as she stared into his eyes, now hugely dilated themselves. 

This time there was none of the touchy-feely stuff. It had started so gently, so sensuously, but soon it changed. This was now more rampant animalistic sex; him driving himself into her, she locking her ankles together behind his legs intensifying her grip and their pleasure. As their lips entwined, he holding her head towards him, gasping for breath and she panted harder and louder, Sherlock became aware of a noise outside the room. His lower muscles strained, he straightened his arms and she tightened everything she had around him. With their bodies shaking they reached climax together, the pair groaning loudly, there was a knock outside the bedroom and the door flew open.

"We have found a second bod... oh shit, Sherlock, John I'm so sorry...", the uninvited guest turned to leave the room.

"John???" shrieked Sherlock. "John! Greg, wait." Still over his lady and panting heavily Sherlock took a couple of long breaths as Elle's legs loosened and slid down the back of his, then he said "This is Elle Jensen. Elle, meet Greg Lestrade". Half laughing, Sherlock extracted himself then rolled on to his back, grateful the covers had supplied some decency.

"Hello Greg." The woman in Sherlock's bed lifted her dark red-haired head and was smiling at a very red-faced member of Her Majesty's Metropolitan Police Force.

"Could you please throw that blue robe this way, Greg. You were saying a second body?"

Greg unhooked the robe from the back of the door and threw it towards the bed averting his eyes from that direction. Sherlock slipped out of bed using the robe to shroud his modesty as Greg replied, "Yes. It is the same M.O. Fine stab wounds, smell of almonds, petechial haemorrhaging as before. Hot room. Another male, guess roughly the same age..."

Sherlock left the bedroom.

"Have you been able to reach John at all?" enquired Elle. The question was innocent enough but made Greg Lestrade blush even more.

"God, I am so sorry. I could only see Sherlock..."

"So you thought I was John? Not great deduction there, Detective Inspector. No wonder you need Sherlock's help!" Elle said teasingly, but she laughed, breaking the tension between the DI and her.

"Sorry Sherlock. I.. oh..." A third person entered the room noticing Sherlock was not there. "I let the Detective Inspector into the house, then as he was dashing in here, I suddenly remembered you were here too Elle, and I could not run that fast upstairs to catch up with him."

"Don't worry Mrs Hudson" said Sherlock as he returned to the bedroom drying his hair having showered extremely quickly. "Greg, give me a few minutes to get dressed and I will join you. Have you spoken to John or do you want me to text him? My phone is in the lounge."

"I haven't texted John yet. I texted you first but when I received no reply, and as I was already in this vicinity, I thought I would come and enquire from Mrs Hudson where you were. She said you were in here. This is huge Sherlock. The sooner you and John can look at the crime scene the more I think we will be able to understand from it." 

"Text John now, give him the address and say to meet us directly there" Sherlock instructed. DI Lestrade and Mrs Hudson backed out of the room as Sherlock dressed quickly, under the watchful eye of Elle, she still languishing within the bedsheets.

"Oops!" Elle was giggling into the covers.

"Shit! God, now the whole damn force will know I'm sleeping with someone. Sorry." Sherlock cringed as he sat on the edge of the bed adding socks and shoes to complete his outfit.

"Well, think positively. At least now the whole damn force will know it is not John Watson!!"

"Hah! See you later. Why don't you text Mary? She and John are coming over later to stay this weekend as we planned anyway so, if she is free, she might be able to join you earlier. No idea how long we will be today." He bent over and kissed her forehead before leaving the room. She heard him call to Lestrade and say something to Mrs Hudson then the outside door clattered his absence.


	11. The key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next step in their developing relationship

Elle showered then dressed and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Mrs Hudson knocked on the door and came in, when called, looking timid.

"Elle. I am sorry. What a silly old fool you must think me. The Inspector turned up and asked if I knew where Sherlock was. When I said upstairs he must have thought I was giving him the ok to come up. The flat door was unlocked as I had just been in with some provisions a few minutes before. I got the shopping Sherlock requested delivered knowing John and Mary are coming over. I did not think he would go into the bedroom. By the time I remembered you were there too it was far too late to stop him."

"Don't worry Mrs Hudson. Sherlock does not embarrass easily and saw the funny side of things. Greg Lestrade and his colleagues don't know me so... Please do not fret about it. Would you like to join me for a coffee?"

"Oh, don't mind if I do, thank you." Mrs Hudson sat down and the two women talked at length. Yes, she definitely liked Elle. 

Elle later texted Mary and, as Mary was free the rest of the day, she journeyed to 221B to drop off her's and John's bags for the weekend then the two younger women planned a jaunt into the West End. Just before they went out the door Mrs Hudson said to Elle, "Here are Sherlock's keys. He will be coming back with John. Now you and Mary can let yourselves in. I must remember to get an extra set cut for him."

"If I spot anywhere in the City whilst we are there I could get an extra set cut for Sherlock. Thank you, Mrs Hudson." The girls left Baker Street, arm in arm, heading south towards Oxford Street and London's heart.

\- * -

It was nearly 7:45pm when John sent a text to Mary, who was now back at Baker Street with Elle. Another PING had flashed up Elle's phone too from Sherlock.

S: Long day! Madness w/ JW/GL/Met. Hopefully successful. Hungry. Fancy meeting at Angelo's 8:15? SH

L: Angelo's. Great. C U both there. LJ x

8:15pm arrived as did the girls at Angelo's. Sherlock and John were seated already, laughing loudly about something. As Elle and Mary approached their table, Sherlock and John rose, kissed their respective partners and they all sat together.

"Had a busy day then?" Elle asked Sherlock.

"Yes."

"He's been through the wringer in more ways than one" smiled John.

"Why?"

"You. Lestrade told Anderson he walked in on me having sex this morning, so Anderson told Donovan, and I think Donovan has told the rest of the Met. They have been trying to find out things about you from me all day, distracting some of them from their work."

"They were trying to interrogate me too" John added exaggeratively. "There seems to be a very strong fascination about the woman who could have bedded Sherlock Holmes!"

"At least now they know who it is not!" Elle chuckled at John. Turning to Sherlock she asked "Did you tell John what the Detective Inspector said when he burst in on us, or have you saved that little morsel for me?"

"He hasn't told me anything. What did Greg say?"

"He said, and I will quote, 'oh, shit... Sherlock, John, I'm so sorry'."

"Wwhaat?" John exclaimed. He looked at Sherlock, then Elle suspiciously, finally catching his wife's eye and erupting with laughter. The whole table joined in.

"Do you have an eidetic memory?" Sherlock asked Elle.

"No, but I think that whole scenario will stick in my memory a long time. It was just so ridiculously funny."

"Shame I had to cut and run, the part slightly before then had been pretty damn good as I recall!" Both Sherlock and Elle clicked and winked at each other, then laughed again.

Four superb plates of pasta later and the two couples walked back towards Baker Street. Outside the door Sherlock automatically tapped his right suit pocket through his coat. Elle held out his keys, then the additional set she had cut on Mrs Hudson's instruction.

"Mrs Hudson said you wanted an extra set."

"They are for you. Do you want to do the honours?" Elle unlocked 221B like a child opening a best birthday present ever. Nothing would be different inside but it felt different to her, now she had her own keys.

With the Baker Street door closed behind the four of them Elle said "I guess I had better give you this then." She held out another key. "Kew" she added with a nod guessing the question on Sherlock's face.

"Aaa, the exchanging of keys. See John, it must be love" smiled Mary, nudging her husband with an arm.

Feeling somewhat overfed, the foursome sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee then a bottle of sparkling Italian wine - sweet after the rich pasta - and talking further.

It seemed good to all four of them to be back together again. The girls now got on with one another nearly as well as the men did. There was a huge amount of electricity within the group, remembering the extent of their sexual activities the previous weekend.

Having talked until well past one o'clock the two couples separated to wash, change and bed. Elle was under the covers before Sherlock entered the room. "I don't know why I bother with pyjamas" he sighed, "they never seem to see the night through anymore."

"I haven't" Elle replied, folding the duvet back a little to reveal naked shoulders and the top of her breasts, one still slightly bruised. Lifting the duvet the naked man slinked onto the bed next to his girl. She automatically curled up to him; her head on his chest, her left arm draped across his torso. She ran a gentle finger from his Adam's apple slowly down to his navel. He took a very deep long breath which he released through pursed lips.

His left hand was behind his head, his right arm lying innocuously loose on the bed beside him. He was thinking they were not teenagers, or even new lovers any longer, they should be capable of sleeping together without making love, but as this simple thought crossed his mind he craved her touch as much as ever. Tilting her head upwards he moved slightly in order to plant a delicate kiss on her lips. She was so receptive to his every whim. Her breathing was already shallow, eyes dilated and palms slightly wet.

Sherlock moved her so she was now on her back. He shuffled down the bed and put his head on her shoulder instead, moving his face downwards in a familiar routine of kissing her breasts. He latched his mouth on to her right nipple and suckled quite subconsciously, stroking her other breast and shoulder with his right hand, then gently licking the bruise. Gliding his hand downward, he scribed a ring around her navel and then continued tracing her scar, fondling her pubis and caressing her labia. There would be plenty of future days when they would be in bed together and not making love: tonight was not one of them.

All the muscles in her lower body contracted to his fingers exploring her vulva. There was no hesitation in his moves, circling her clitoris, stroking her pubis, entering her steadily, one finger then two.

Her eyes opened briefly, a smile flashed across them and her lips as she re-closed them and released a low-pitched moan. Relinquishing his caress briefly he lifted his body on top of hers and guided his penile shaft along the same route his fingers had just taken. So accepting of him, so warm to his sensations, swollen and naturally lubricated she tilted her pelvis forwards then back squeezing her muscles tightly around the man now inside her. 

Light, nearly imperceptible rocking motions from him and hip shifting from her gradually over some time built to intense lunges and squeezes from both, his head swimming, heart pounding, blood boiling through his veins, all the while showering each other with kisses, the lovers consumed one another's passion in their exotic and erotic horizontal fandango. No thoughts of anything but her, sweat pouring off him, Sherlock fed off her lusts like a ravenous beast, finally bracing himself as his total being stiffened in ecstasy and pleasure then release, she wallowing in the sensation of his wholly stimulated body. Their intimacy complete again.

The pair of them rolled over, his head in down, hers on his right shoulder, arms and legs still wrapped around one another, their bodies now drained and hot, they would shower in the morning; with energy gauges reading empty they both fell to sleep immediately.


	12. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft awakenings as John is their witness

Elle woke to find her left arm and leg crooked across Sherlock. Senses tingling she realised, limp, used and somewhat abused, he was still very slightly within her: they had been together all night. Had neither of them stirred enough to even separate them? Taking a long breath she shifted herself just fractionally, ensuring her captive could not fall away from her then, concentrating hard to tense muscles in the correct order, she choreographed a tighten and release rhythm that pumped life back into his soft phallus. 

Sherlock started to wake, feeling his manhood being caressed by her muscles alone. A languishing moan of pleasure he gripped her bottom with both hands and pushed her further on to him, luxuriating in the phenomenon of being woken with sex. Her body tensioned in an orgasmic ripple of lust and passion.

Using his superior strength and core muscle control he rolled the pair of them over, keeping his hands tight on her rear he pushed himself more within her, hard, quick and heated. As the roll pressed him stronger within her his penetration sent waves of pleasure over and through her body, his own climax soon forthcoming and extremely powerful; his whole body vibrating with the moment, her second orgasm matched his one in both timing and ferocity.

"Morning" came breathless recognition.

"Morning" she replied.

"What the effing hell happened there?" he questioned, quasi-swearing, half laughing.

"I woke and you were still inside me. We could not have moved all night. It felt so strangely erotic to find you soft but still there, my muscles started to tingle and tension to evoke a reaction." 

"Looks like they just got one! I need that shower we were going to have last night. Care to join me?"

"Can you guarantee to keep your hands off me?"

"Guarantee? No."

"Then yes, I will join you."

"You really are an insatiable glutton for punishment."

"No, just an insatiable glutton for you Sherlock. Any idea what time it is?"

"Oh, shit. It is only twenty past seven. We can't shower yet. We'll wake John and Mary." 

"Sorry, I should not have woken you. Do you want to sleep a bit longer?"

"Not really. Don't apologise for waking me like that! In fact, don't ever apologise at all. Every man at least once in his life should be woken with sex. It was wonderful! Can you guarantee to keep your hands off me if we just plan to lie here together?"

"Guarantee? No."

"Oh. Good." A smile burst across Sherlock's face. He extracted himself from the bed covers, grabbed his robe and walked out to the bathroom. A splashing of water from the tap later he returned to the room, and closed the door, looking somewhat more awake and refreshed. Dropping his robe on the floor as he crossed the room he moved to climb back into bed, but Elle stopped him short. Sitting up she took his hands and guided him to stand close to the divan's edge. 

Locking her eyes into his she released his hands, put hers on his bottom, squeezing the cheeks as she pulled his hips forward, guiding the extent of his soft phallus in between her lips. He curled his arms around her head, stroking her hair, standing in front of her, involuntarily gyrating his hips, controlled by her hold from both sides. Her eyes were closed now, but his were locked on what she was doing to him. Her mouth released him briefly as her tongue touched under and lifted each testicle in turn, kissing them, then she started to traverse her way back up his now stiffening form to the rim, pushing his foreskin back with her lips, licking all over his glans, kissing it with her wet and inviting mouth.

Unfortunately watching her was taking him to the brink far quicker than he wanted. He put his finger under her chin and held her head back as he freed himself from her caressive lips. "Move over" he whispered and clambered back into the bed alongside her. It might not have been his plan or intention, but Elle was now on a mission and immediately sidled down the bed to re-take her place, now with her man under covers, prone instead of standing. Sherlock's dissipating groan coupled with a wry smile marked his acceptance of this fate and he left her to gorge upon him. He interlaced his fingers and put his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, pleasure-bent.

There was a soft tap on the door, which opened slowly. A bleary-eyed John walked into the dim room. "Hello, Sherlock?" he whispered. "I heard you moving about. I have just received a text message from... oh, excuse me, sorry, I had better leave."

"A message from where, John? Lestrade?" Suddenly very businesslike in his tone, Sherlock was fully attentive to what John had to say, leaning up on his lower arms. John, though, was less so.

"I... errr... I... yes, Lestrade. He has left a message, look, for both of us." John moved over to the bed keeping his eyes fixed to his friend's face, and passed Sherlock his phone.

GL: SH/JW lead on case points to past Plymouth-based homicide. Checking out with Devon Const. Early start. Will keep you posted. Thanks for help again. GL

Sherlock held out the phone back towards it's owner. "I guess that puts us off duty for a while. Thanks John. Breakfast around 10?"

Since John's arrival into the bedroom Elle had not moved at all on Sherlock, neither had she risen from under the covers. The position of her body shape within the bedding however showed clear enough for John to know exactly where she was and more than likely what she was doing there. He agreed regarding breakfast and retreated from the room, closing the door.

Sherlock's attention now returned to Elle. He could feel her tongue rolling around him, moving his deep dorsal vein. They may have lost some of their impetus thanks to the short disturbance but she was obviously continuing from where she had paused, and he was now refocused on her, energised by her coaxing. Sucking his foreskin, she slipped the end of her tongue inside it then pushed it back with the grip of her lips.

Her fingers clawed on his chest, not leaving an imprint but informing Sherlock she was closing in on her own orgasm. He took her hand, trying to pull her up the bed; he wanted to take her, but she was going nowhere. He instead arched his pelvis towards her, feeling her slide her hand down his stomach and along his thigh, up between his legs, cupping his balls as she licked and sucked him again. She sensed the tension in him and sucked deeply as he ejaculated, his whole body shaking. Throbbing and bursting his full ejaculation was encouraged into her mouth. He felt as though his whole body was going to self-combust, then realised he could feel an equally extraordinary amount of heat emanating from her. She had climaxed. Her mouth released her prey and she swallowed, her head rested on his hip; she too was shaking.

The pounding of her heart thumped against his inner thigh. It felt incredibly erotic. He wanted to pull her up and embrace her for the wondrous sensation she had caused him, but he felt she would rise when she was ready. A few minutes' later her head finally appeared from below the covers. Hot, sweaty, red-faced she dropped her head on the pillow near him, taking in slow lungfuls of air now she was no longer sheathed in duvet. He looked at her satisfied closed-eyed face wondering what on Earth to say when the first words uttered were from her.

"Sorry about that. I think I got a bit carried away." Their discussion carried on in animated whispers.

"Sorry? You are apologising to me again, and for what? For making me feel so... oh, that was exquisite."

"Thank goodness for that. I would hate to think I did all that just for my gratification alone." An impish smile crossed her lips.

"I think it is fair to say I enjoyed it at least equally as much as you did. Believe me."

"But you tried to stop me. Why?"

"I wanted to give as much as I was getting, share the experience more. But I realised you have a stubborn streak and no intention of moving so I left you to it. I just feel a little guilty I was the one to get all the pleasure."

"You weren't! I have told you before 'anyone who thinks a woman gives a man a blow job solely for his pleasure is most truly mistaken'. I love the sensation. I crave the feeling of you within my mouth. Surely you must have realised I was in orgasm too?"

"Yes, but not of my making."

"Of course it was Sherlock. I wanted you that way. Desperately. So long as you don't feel abused?"

"What? You think I might feel you took advantage? How terrible for me."

"Seriously..."

"Seriously. You loved it. I loved it. And... when I recover enough I will show you just how much I loved it. Here." He put his arm out so she could snuggle up to him. They lay together silently for around forty minutes, cuddling, stroking, kissing, then it was the detective who spoke again. "We had better get up and shower. I suggested 10 for breakfast to John when he came in earlier."

Picking up and putting on his robe as he left Sherlock found Elle in hot pursuit as he headed into the bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind her as he walked into the cubicle and turned on the shower, shivering slightly as the initial water was cold. By the time Elle had joined him the water was running at temperature. Soaking his hair he lathered then passed the shampoo. She followed suit, then conditioner, then Sherlock squirted body gel on to a shower puff and began rubbing her in gentle circling movements, sculpting around her curves. Passing the puff Elle started with Sherlock's back, backside and back of thighs, letting the soapy water run down the rest of his legs. As he turned to face her she smiled. He was fully erect again. She bit her lower lip suggestively raising her left brow, highlighting the glint in her eyes.

"Damn you" he exclaimed in a semi-breathless whisper. He put his arms between her legs, lifted her, trapped her between him and the wall and pushed himself inside her, she coiling her arms around his neck, her legs around his back, licking his throat then gently biting his lip. He used the wall to full advantage: no soft bed giving way at his thrusts, she was getting everything, and quickly too. Like a rampant steed he charged his way to another orgasm, taking her, very vocally, there as well. "Oh, shit." The only words he could manage to utter as he left the cubicle to dry whilst Elle rinsed conditioner from her locks. It was a very interesting start to their Saturday.

Twenty minutes later the pair were in the kitchen, talking generally as John surfaced from his room and came downstairs, he too was damp-haired having also showered, saying Mary was in there now. The shortest glance between Sherlock and Elle made them realise they had both thought the same thing: wonder if they had been in there together?

"Sorry about earlier." He looked to both of them. "Nice to know we have the day off though." Sherlock did not give the situation a second thought. Elle, however, did think her supposition was correct on whether his autistic-style nature liked to be appreciated in anything he did so, like with his crime solving, he had felt pleasure from being observed.

Mary joined them and they all sat down to fresh orange juice, toast and coffee. Noticing the rain they agreed the best plan was to stay at Baker Street for the day, sure they could find something to occupy them. A loud PING disrupted proceedings, just as one had last Sunday from Mycroft. John said "I bet that's Lestrade" looking expectantly to his colleague to pick up his phone.

"It wasn't mine" Sherlock said.


	13. An unwanted gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A car trip, a memo and an extremely angry brother all leads to a great deal of tears

"I think it was me" stated Elle looking quizzical. She picked up her phone.

MH: I need to speak to you. In car outside Baker Street. Will wait as long as it takes. Say nothing to SH. Mycroft.

"It is me. I need to nip out. Sorry. Won't be long." Elle kissed Sherlock on the cheek, grabbed her jacket and keys and went downstairs without a backward glance, skipping across from the front door, climbing into the back of a large black car, sitting next to her lover's elder brother.

"Drive - anywhere" said Mycroft sliding closed the connecting window in the limousine. "I feel I need to have a talk with you Lavinia Jensen."

"Good morning Mycroft Holmes. Nice to see you too. How did you get my private mobile number?"

"Oh that is easy. It is just about the only number my brother has been contacting for weeks other than John's and his pet policeman." 

"You do know Sherlock will guess I have been talking with you? I will not lie Mycroft."

"Don't get all waspish and defensive yet. You don't know why I want to talk to you. I want to know the meaning of your relationship with my brother?"

"We are two consenting adults who enjoy the other's company, have become good friends and are involved. That's all."

"You are sleeping with Sherlock."

"Are you asking or telling me?"

"I am only looking out for his interests. I fear he might have fallen in love with you."

"So? I love him too as a matter of fact."

"Really? He is not a normal man. He will not want to settle down and have children and make house you know."

"Neither do I. We are just enjoying being with one another. He is still working, for the police and for you occasionally. I am not distracting him. It just means he has a friendly pair of arms to hold him and a pair of ears to listen to him when he gets home. I do not have any picket fence illusions."

"What is your attraction to him?"

"I find your brother to be the most intelligent, erudite and witty man of my acquaintance. He fascinates me. He makes me laugh out loud more than anyone I have previously known. He is also the most beautiful man I have ever seen. I love being with him."

"He is a good lover, Elle?"

"What has that got to do with you?"

"Just I know he has had little or no experience of women in the past. You must forgive him if he is a little unorthodox or unskilled."

"Sherlock is the most exceptional lover. He can be extremely tender and loving one time and rampant the next. Our sex life is exciting, varied and exhilarating. Do you have a sex life to speak of, Mycroft?"

"I... I... I am clearly dedicated to my work and..."

"And you have just assumed I am bad for your brother?"

"On the contrary. He seems very happy, happier than I think I have ever known him in fact, and I am delighted for him, for both of you. I just do not want to see him hurt, Lavinia." Mycroft tapped the connecting window with the end of his umbrella.

"I have no intention of hurting him." Her voice dropped and she stared into Mycroft's cold grey-blue eyes; they were so very different from his brother's. "I love him Mycroft. I have told him, but probably even he does not know how much. I would do anything for him."

"Then I feel he is in good hands and I trust you to take care of him. Sherlock is an oxymoron: he is the most intelligent person I know as well. His brain power and deductive skills are second to none, which is why I call on his services frequently, although he often tries to resist or find other things to do than assist me, but I know he is the best. However, he is also like an overgrown spoiled child. He will sulk if things are not as he wants, sit around in his pyjamas all day, have tantrums... You know much of this already. He was still in his pyjamas when I turned up last Sunday."

"Yes, but it was not that long after 9 in the morning on Easter Sunday and if you had half your brother's powers of observation you would have noticed I was still in my pyjamas, as were Mary and John. We had a very late night and had not long been up, having breakfast, still deciding what to do during the somewhat wet day when you called upon him."

"Ah. Mummy said he was angry with me when I spoke to her. I told her about you. Our parents would like to meet you."

"I know, I heard Sherlock's half of a conversation with your mother, and then his schoolboy tantrum - as you mentioned - afterwards."

"He has always been like that. Do not expect too much of him. He is very new at relationships."

"I'm struggling to keep up with him Mycroft. He has a phenomenal brain, yes, but his body matches it. Even he has been surprised by that."

"Now he has been working on another case with the police and John has he still been attentive to you? I mean these last few days he has been dashing about again. I know how much he loves the thrill of his work. He has not been neglecting you now, I hope. I mean, when did he last have... I mean, are things ok when he is working?"

"We had sex this morning Mycroft, if that is what you are trying to ask. Is your main role spying on what your brother is doing?" Mycroft looked suddenly small and sheepish. "He is a very caring and attentive lover."

"But a very frustrating man."

"And a wonderful one. You may or may not be aware but he adores you. He has spoken of you to me with such pride, but hides a lot of that from you. What is it about brothers that will not let them admit their feelings and respect for one another? You have told me your thoughts on him, he has done the same on you. Yet I bet you have never told each other, in so many words."

"I hope his opinion of me does not change. Sherlock knows I have a high opinion of him, that is why I ask him to be involved when I know 'normal' British Intelligence will not have a hope."

"Where are we going Mycroft?"

"Baker Street. And here we are." Elle looked out the window for the first time since alighting and there was Speedy's cafe and the black friendly door drawing into view. The car pulled up outside the cafe. "I have something for you Elle. Do not think too unkindly of me please. It was necessary. It had to be done. Until we meet again, under better circumstances hopefully. I hope you will consider coming and meeting our parents some time soon." He gave her a small brown sealed envelope.

She climbed out of the limousine, keeping her head within the shelter of the car and turned to its occupant. "We have a very loving, very sexual and very strong relationship. If you need any further proof of where it is going..." She paused, fumbled around in her pocket, then held out her keys to 221B, "I hope it is very long-term Mycroft. Who is to say in love? Life is very unpredictable. Perhaps you should try to get to know your own brother a little better, rather than just use him when you need his help or advice, Mr Holmes."

"You may be right! Good day to you."

Elle dashed across the pavement, unlocked the door and went upstairs, shaking off the worst of the rain as she went. Walking into the room Sherlock, now sitting in the lounge with the Watsons awaiting her return, caught her eye and looked very sullen about something. "Where have you been?"

"No idea. I did not look. I was in the back of a big black car with Mycroft."

"Mycroft? What did he want?"

"He wanted to know who I am Sherlock. Who I am to you and what our long-term plans are."

"What on Earth did you say?"

"I told him we are consenting adults in an intimate relationship that we both hope will last indefinitely. I told him I love you and that I have no intention of hurting you, and I told him he ought to make an effort to know, and not just use, his younger brother because there is a very lovely person there worth knowing, if he took the time."

"I can just imagine what he said to that."

"He agreed with me."

"Now there is a surprise. You have obviously captured the hearts and minds of both the weird Holmes' brothers."

"Just so long as you don't expect me to sleep with him too..." She smirked. Sherlock chuckled at the absurdity of the idea.

"Does he know that we..."

"Yes."

"What? What did you tell him?"

"I confirmed that we are lovers. That is all he needed to know. He is actually very concerned about you. I did not give him a blow by blow account."

"Not like you not to choose your words carefully." This time Sherlock smirked. Elle's cheek flushed a very healthy shade of puce. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears, and she spoke the thing that had been on her mind since John had said he had been 'interrogated' about her by their colleagues in the Met on Friday night.

"I feel a net tightening around me Sherlock. It is suffocating me and I am getting frightened. First the Met quizzing you and John, now Mycroft quizzing me. Are you going to be a dangerous person to be in love with? You faked your own death to save John, Mrs Hudson and others. What happens when some freaky arch enemy finds out you have a girlfriend?"

"You alone have felt the full intensity, depth and power of my love. They would feel the power of my wrath. I could be a more ruthless, terrifying and dangerous enemy than anyone would want. I will not allow anyone to hurt you Elle." Sherlock spoke intensely but calmly. He then walked steadily across to her, put his arms around her, squeezed her gently and closely to him and said "Sorry you have been pummelled by Mycroft. I will have a word with him."

"No need" she sniffed, raising her gaze allowing Sherlock to gently kiss her lips. "I have put him straight. He knows who I am now, where I stand, what our relationship is and what you mean to me. The next time I am interrogated I will not be quite so courteous, if there is a next time, but I don't think there will be." Then she added "He gave me this". She held up the envelope. Ms Lavinia Jensen. STRICTLY PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL was the missive on the front. 

Walking away into the kitchen for a little privacy, Elle put the filter coffee machine on to brew again, then opened the envelope. She withdrew a piece of paper and a memory stick. She read the piece of paper and her eyes flashed and filled with even more tears, then she seemed to lose balance, nearly fainting. "Oh my God." Sherlock looked at her concerned. She held out the paper for him to read. He crossed the room at speed to help her into a chair before taking the paper from her.

It was in old style memorandum format and said:

TO:_____ Ms Lavinia Jensen _____________FROM:__________ Mycroft Holmes Esq.

CC:_____ - __________________________DATE:__________ 26 APRIL 20##

SUBJECT: Relationship with MR SHERLOCK HOLMES, 221B BAKER STREET, LONDON W1

Due to the extraordinarily confidential and occasionally serious nature of the work your boyfriend, Mr Sherlock Holmes, and I deal with on a regular basis, it was seen as prudent to investigate you. All our findings are enclosed within this dossier, safe to say we found nothing untoward in your background.

Please find enclosed a memory stick with the files that have been created about you. I assure you this is the only copy. No paper versions were created and the main folder was double deleted once copied in full for your perusal.

Included are transcriptions of conversations between you and Mr Sherlock Holmes in his and your home bedrooms from 20-25 April inclusive. Please note the electronic listening devices - 'bugs' - that were both automatically switched off 10.00pm 25 April, are concealed within the base units of the lamps on the bedside tables closest to the door in each location. 

Again, please accept my sincerest apologies for this invasion into your privacy.

I look forward to meeting you in better circumstances, as my brother's girlfriend, rather than the subject of an investigation, perhaps at my parents' over the Spring Bank Holiday. Best regards to both you and my brother.

MEMO END

There was no signature, just a very formal looking stamp in the bottom right-hand corner. 

Sherlock's arm holding the piece of paper dropped; he was physically shaking and looked angrier than Elle, Mary or even John had ever seen him. "The bastard!" he shrieked. "I think I am going to kill him!"

"What's the matter?" enquired John, looking intensely from Sherlock to Elle.

"Show him Sherlock" said Elle also still shaking, "and Mary". Sherlock thrust the memo into John's hand as he headed for his bedroom. Mary read over John's shoulder.

"Oh God. No wonder he's so angry" said Mary looking at Elle. "Are you all right? I will get you a coffee."

"Yes, thank you. Just a little shaken." Uncontrollable silent tears continued to cascade down Elle's cheeks.

"... and ring me back as soon as you get this Mycroft." The three in the kitchen heard the end of Sherlock's answer-phone message to his brother. Boy, was Mycroft in trouble!

Sherlock boomed through into the kitchen with his brother's bug in his hand, ready to fly off the handle again, when a sight stopped him in his tracks. His girlfriend sat shaking at the kitchen table holding the memory stick and subconsciously rolling it in her fingers of her left hand; John sat beside her holding her other hand, Mary standing, arm around Elle's shoulders, a hot mug of coffee in her hand, just putting it on the table.

"God, where are my manners. Thank you Mary." He went over and embraced Mary, kissing her cheek. "Thanks John." He held out a hand to John which John took and shook but then stood and embraced his obviously distressed friend. Sherlock bent and kissed his girlfriend softly on the cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb, then pulled her coffee closer to her, taking the seat John just vacated. "Oh baby, I am so, so sorry. It never occurred to me you might be put on 'espionage watch'."

"I am all right, Sherlock. I was just a little shocked. Thanks for the cuppa Mary." Elle dried her eyes.

"What about Mary and me? Will we have been checked out also?"

"You John, Mycroft approached personally very early, even tried to get you to spy on me for him for money, if you remember? I guess with your military record, you will have automatically been checked and passed muster. As for Mary..." he paused, their eyes met, a flash of recognition between them then he continued, "Mary, I believe, being married to you is seen as too far away from me to be of consideration for examination". He semi-smiled nearly apologetically, but something had crossed between the two of them that neither John nor Elle would ever know.

Sherlock's phone began to ring. "Mycroft" he said seeing his brother's name, answering it as he went out the room. Again, like they had when his mother had telephoned the previous weekend, the trio in the kitchen could hear Sherlock's half of the conversation, and it was more than slightly evident he was not happy.

"You bastard! What the hell were you thinking?... I understand that, but a bug in my bedroom?... And one at Kew as well? Well I hope you got off on it Mycroft... I don't care you have not listened to it personally, someone has!!... Oh, and that is all right with you is it? Some faceless wonder from MI6 or wherever has been listening to your brother and his girlfriend at their most intimate moments... She had better be discreet... Are there any more of your blasted bugs here? Do I need to check out the rest of Baker Street for listening devices, or cameras even? Does Mrs Hudson need to check her apartment? Anything there, or how about more hidden at Kew, or is there anything at John and Mary's home?" 

There was a long pause for Mycroft's reply in detailed dissent and Sherlock finally stopped shouting, the anger having welled up inside him. His voice suddenly softened. "Elle has been extremely upset by this whole episode Mycroft. Why didn't you tell me you would look into her back story? I could have at least warned her of the possibility and explained why... I know there are protocols but... She is my girlfriend... OK then, lover, we are not sixteen year olds... you know that now by the transcripts. Have you read them?... Oh Christ... Thank you at least for that. Are you sure?... Oh, I see... Of course she let me read it... OK, ok I understand... Yes, I will tell her. Thanks Mycroft." 

Looking exasperated Sherlock sighed, threw the bug onto the lit fire then re-took the seat next to Elle, thanking Mary with a nod as she pushed forward another mug of coffee, this time towards him.

"Are you sure burning alone is going to disable that thing? I guess that was the bug?" asked John.

"Probably not, which is why I crushed it under a hard shoe heel before I came in here. It's supposed to be turned off by now anyway. I thought it was strange when he dropped the dossier off himself last weekend then had to 'use my bathroom' before leaving again. He planted the bloody thing, I'm sure of it. Argh."

"Then there is a second bug in my bedroom at Kew too?" Elle enquired as she put the memory stick down on the table.

"Yes, by the sound of things."

"Oh my God, the electrician." A flashing moment of realisation hit Elle. Sherlock looked perplexed. "Em left me a post-it note about some electrician visitor. I dismissed it out of hand."

"Shit. I cannot believe the arrogance of the man. If he was here right now I would... [Sherlock balled his hands into fists.] How did he feel he would get away with this? I am not privy to information that sensitive very often myself. And I would definitely never discuss in detail anything I do for him. Why was he so compelled to see if we were revealing classified secrets to one another in bed? We are not in a cold war situation anymore. He just probably wanted to get his rocks off, or find out if I was any good in the sack. Damn him!"

"Don't get riled again Sherlock." Elle was almost pleading with him, placing her hand in his. "It's over now. Don't think of it." 

Sherlock picked up her hand with his and kissed it. "What will you do with that?", his eyes looking at the memory stick now sitting in the middle of the table.

"I don't know. I was tempted to let it join the bug in your fire, but I will keep it in the short term. I'm not sure I will ever look at it. It is not even compatible with my iPad." All around the table laughed and the tension, which had been extremely high ever since Elle had opened the envelope, dissipated. Sherlock put the memo and memory stick back into the envelope, rose, walked over and put it on the mantelpiece to either put in his safe later, or for Elle to take home and put somewhere out of mind.

"Are you feeling ok now Elle?" enquired John. She nodded. 

"Fine thanks John, just a little distracted... Oh my God! Those transcripts. Do those dates cover when the four of us were here together?"

"Probably. Thank goodness we are not that talkative!" Sherlock tried to sound positive.

"Oh this is just unbearable. Sherlock. Mycroft would not say anything to anyone would he? I don't care for me, but for Mary and John, and you..."

"Don't let it worry you. He wouldn't say anything." Sherlock tried to reassure her. "Try and let it escape your thoughts, and if you can't, we will have a look at the transcripts together, if you want to. We will only need to see where they start and finish to remember what happened in between. Mycroft is discretion to the extreme, believe me." Then all of a sudden his face burst into an unexpected and uncontrollable smile. "Let's count ourselves lucky he did not plant bugs in the whole of your bloody house!"

"Why, were you playing around in places other than the bedroom?" John was now very interested. Mary glowered at John feeling as though he had asked the most personal and inappropriate question, especially bearing in mind what had just happened.

"One or two places" answered Sherlock, a glimmer in his eye that reflected the naughty schoolboy within him yet again.

"Em and Kaye were away. Save their personal spaces we managed to 'experiment' around the place." Elle looked sheepish now, but colour had returned to her face and she too was smiling, properly smiling, for the first time in what felt like a couple of hours.

"Let's go out and have a walk somewhere - blow some steam." Mary was full of good ideas. Refreshed after their breakfast and wrapped warmly, with Sherlock walking with Mycroft's old umbrella 'just in case' the four of them found themselves back in Regent's Park, taking a shorter walk than the first wander they had shared there together. Even with the correct outerwear it was still very cold, to say it was late April.

Back at Baker Street the coffee machine, kettle and fire were all put back into action. John mashed a pot of tea for him and Sherlock, whereas Elle made the coffee - not being a tea drinker - and Mary joined her in that. It had been a good afternoon considering the upset of the morning. Sherlock was calm now and no longer occasionally muttering 'Mycroft!' under his breath, as he had continued to do so during the walk. Elle too had finally de-stressed about the whole thing and the envelope and its contents were duly forgotten about, short-term at least.

Dinner was quite literally what the doctor ordered. John mentioned he thought they would have had bacon butties, as they had previously when the four of them were all at Baker Street. When Elle suggested they could have them for evening instead, John's description of and longing for a 'good old fry up' set them all salivating and, with fresh tomatoes, bacon, mushrooms and eggs in the house a foreshortened version of that came about. 

As the evening closed in and curtains were drawn and the lights put on low a round of drinks - single malt whiskies for John and Sherlock, and Gins for the girls (Bitter Lemon for Elle, Tonic for Mary - some of the provisions Mrs Hudson had supplied earlier on Sherlock's request) general conversation drifted into talk of bed time. 

Elle seemed a little fractious about the subject to start, but nothing was going to stop her feeling the way she did and wanting Sherlock, so she joined in the discourse. Unknown to the others she had been thinking about the sessions she and Sherlock had had together recently and what might be within those transcripts. The thought of someone having to go through and write down every word they said - could you even spell some of the noises they expelled during their most intimate moments?

Elle realised she was not going to be able to get beyond this and asked if she could borrow Sherlock's laptop and excuse herself. Sherlock followed her into his bedroom and helped her set it up - no-one on Earth would ever guess his password protection system that was for sure! After explaining that the first letter or number - all of which were case sensitive - on each line on the left of the memo was the password Mycroft had protected the memory stick with - he left her to have a look at what was there. Sherlock offered again to go through the transcripts with her, but she said there was no need, and that she would call him if she needed moral support. After a long deep breath Elle attached the USB and the laptop found the new hardware immediately coming up with a password prompt.

'Clever Mycroft' she thought as she entered each character, though annoyed she felt anything even vaguely positive about him. The memory stick opened and two folders were on the drive: DOSSIER and TRANSCRIPTS. The dossier could wait. It might be interesting to visit one day, to find out just how much of her life was 'out there' for the people who can find what is to be found, but her eyes and thoughts were drawn to the other file. More deep breathing required as she clicked the icon TRANSCRIPTS to find two more folders beneath: BS and KW. Baker Street and Kew she thought. Which was more important for her to view? Unsure but knowing they had moved from Baker Street to Kew, she decided she would look at the files in that order.

Clicking on BS she held her breath this time. There were six entries marked 2004, 2104 through to 2504. "The dates" she whispered to herself. 2004 was clicked on. The layout was very simple; no heading, no names, just coded and straight into whatever had been spoken.

KW: Time.

KM: Where do you think you are going?

KW: I was going to get up and rustle up some drinks, then think about what we could have for dinner.

KM: Oh no you don't. You cannot do that to a man and not let him reap some sort of revenge.

UM: Good idea. 

KW: You bastard. Just you wait.

KM: It is you who will have to wait. A month probably the way I am feeling at the moment.

KW: It won't be that long I assure you.

"Oh my God" Elle said to herself, more tears running down her cheeks. It all seemed so raw, and yet at the time it had been wonderful. She could read no more in that file. But she knew she would not rest until she understood the extent of what had been written. She clicked on 2504 to see where conversations at Baker Street had stopped, scrolling quickly to near the end of the entries.

UM: I haven't texted J yet. I texted you first but when I received no reply and as I was already in this vicinity I thought I would come and enquire from MH where you were. She said you were in here. This is huge S. The sooner you and J can look at the crime scene the more I think you will be able to understand from it.

KM: Text J now, give him the address and say to meet us directly there.

KW: Oops!

KM: Shit! God, now the whole damn force will know I am sleeping with someone. Sorry.

KW: Well, think positively. At least now the whole damn force will know it is not JW.

KM: Hah! See you later. Why don't you text M? She and J are coming over later to stay this weekend as we planned anyway so, if she is free, she might be able to join you earlier. No idea how long we will be today.

Closing the BS folder there she opened KW. Again the same dates were listed there too.

2004 was totally blank. They were at Baker Street all day, she knew that.

2104 had a much more detailed entry:

KW: I want to tie you up S.

KM: You are teasing me E.

KW: You think? You don't need to be a great detective to come to that conclusion.

KM: Take me.

KW: I am not done ??? Don't start without me.

She scrolled a little way down, noticing some of the intimacies she and Sherlock had shared, especially with the accompaniment of ice. Suddenly four words stood out from the page. There in black and white: "I love you S."

'Thank goodness we are not very talkative when love making generally' she thought. 2204 and 2304 were blank. As Sherlock had said it was a good job they had not bugged other rooms in the house as that was where they had been 'playing' during those times, including the lounge, kitchen, a very impromptu visit to her darkroom and more than a touch of naughtiness in the shower yet again. Although quite conversational at times, there did not seem too much from Kew after all...

Then she opened the file marked 2404

KW: Now S, now.

KM: You want me?

KW: Yes.

KM: Now?

KW: Yes, now.

KM: Tell me what you want E.

KW: God, why are you teasing me? I want you, S, yes, now, yes, inside me, hard, fast, deep, everything. I want all of you. Just ...

KM: I just wanted to make sure.

KW: You wanted me to beg.

KM: I wanted you to beg.

KW: Hit me S.

KM: No.

KW: Hurt me.

KM: I... I can't.

KW" I want more of you.

KM: God, what planet are you on at this minute?

KW: I don't know but you are coming with me...

Elle read this with very mixed feelings. The thought someone had listened to that, including all the 'live' creaks, groans and sighs which thankfully were not transcribed to the file, was frankly horrifying but reading it back stimulated her, remembering the moment, not knowing then that their every word and breath was being witnessed.

Now came a feeling of overwhelming shame. After all she had been through this morning, all Sherlock's ranting at Mycroft about how much she had been upset, she now realised she has been turned on when reading it back. She went to the bedroom door and called Sherlock's name. He came into the room and, looking at her face, wondered what was wrong. She got him to glance over the open file. His face stayed passive whilst he read then, judging her reaction said "Well, one thing you can say is we do have some fun."

Elle laughed. Tears poured down her face again, but she continued to laugh, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging and kissing him, feeling relieved at his response.

After removing the memory stick and closing down the laptop Elle returned to the lounge where John, Mary and now Sherlock again were sitting. She gave the envelope to Sherlock, who put it in his safe, locked away for another day...

"Everything ok? asked Mary having noticed the tear stains on Elle's cheeks.

"Yes. It was not as bad as I had envisioned it might be. There is some graphic detail but without being there and knowing what the majority of it refers to, Joe Average would not be much the wiser. You are both mentioned on there, but they have not included any names, they have been redacted to just initials, even Sherlock and I are listed as KM and KW; I am guessing they stand for Known Man and Known Woman because Greg Lestrade and you John are both listed as UM - Unknown Man - and you are obviously generally very quiet in the bedroom Mary. I am sure you are there somewhere but not in the pieces I read."

"Thank goodness none of us give running commentary as we are doing things to one another" John added. "Does it include the noises off or just dialogue?" Mary stared knowingly at her husband.

"Just the dialogue thank goodness. I really feared it saying 'grunt', 'groan' and 'sigh' everywhere but it was not that detailed. Most of the intimate things it did pick up were words, said by me..." She trailed off.

"What did you say?" was Sherlock's enquiry.

"It noted that I said 'I love you Sherlock' and the other, though not so sweet was a little more graphic."

"What was it?" chorused John and Sherlock together. Sherlock gave her a reassuring nod that implied they were among friends and that he did not mind them knowing the details.

"When I said I wanted to tie you up." She blushed slightly. John and Sherlock exchanged raised eyebrows.

"Did you tie him up?"

"Yes John, she did." Sherlock's smile was obviously a reflection of his thoughts of that night. "I got to tie her up later, so I did not mind in the slightest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Was intending to post in 5-chapter chunks but home wi-fi blew mid posting. Will finish this group and post next lot once alive and kicking at home. Currently piggy backing from a friend!


	14. The beginning... shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A future proposal, personal history and the new definition of control

"You do lead very exciting sex lives" sighed Mary.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" alarmed John in response.

"Just what I said - different positions, different rooms, tying one another up..."

"We have fun though, don't we?"

"Yes John. But a lot of that has been inspired by our friends here, to be honest. We just kept it straight and true before."

"What is so different now?" Elle was intrigued. Both men waited to hear the answer to this question too.

"Well, showering has become more interesting recently" Mary said with a glint, "and obviously the experiments with you two as well."

"The shower is the best place in the world. Down right dirty one minute, and clean the next. What could be better?" John was in reminiscence mode.

"How about a softly-lit shower with all four of us in there together?" Elle had just voiced something she had subconsciously considered before. The cogs had obviously been in overdrive again in her head but she was looking to and thinking of the future.

"There isn't room for all four of us in either of the showers here." Sherlock had pointed out a catch, but in his mind it seemed that was the only stumbling block on this the latest of Elle's potentially erotic adventures.

"No, but there is at mine!" Elle said it so matter-of-factly.

"Taxi" John had shouted at the same time Sherlock had called "Taxi for Kew". The two girls looked at them and burst into laughter.

"It doesn't take much does it Elle? That is one heck of a carrot to dangle." Mary surprised at her husband's eagerness, let alone that of his friend.

"Later maybe." Elle looked considered for a moment then asked Mary "How did you and John meet? I know Sherlock was out of the picture at that time."

"Yes, I was busy being dead."

"John joined the GP Surgery where I was a Practice Nurse about a year after Sherlock 'died'. We met as soon as John joined the practice. A few weeks later we had both had a long shift and faced yet another evening alone with the telly or a book, so I asked if he cared to join me for a drink. It often starts innocently like that. We had been going out regularly - when our schedules allowed - before I plucked up courage to invite John to my place. It sounds as though it was quicker with you and Sherlock though?"

"Well, I guess. I knew of Sherlock through John's blog and the news, and when my boss suddenly disappeared he was the first person I thought to approach, knowing the Met would be looking into it. There was a seven or eight day investigation - slightly hampered by me in the end, then Sherlock resolved the case, stopping my boss absconding with the company money. I came to see him a few days later to pay my bill and asked him if I could take him to dinner as a thank you. I had been convinced someone had killed Colin, but it turned out Colin was actually the problem."

"How did you hamper my case?"

"Not being forthright with information."

"How, and why?"

"You asked me to find out some pieces of information regarding Colin Michelson and the business. I found them easily enough but when I came to tell you I realised I found you so intriguing that I only gave you the information on some of them at that time, in order for me to be able to return the next day to see you with the other details. Pathetic, I know."

"Dammit. I felt as though you were hiding something from me. I didn't guess it could be anything like that, especially for those reasons."

"Did you go out for dinner together then?"

"Yes John. You were away working in your GP role and I was bored - of course - which is why I had taken on the job in the first place. It sounded like a potential murder at least which whetted my appetite. Elle kindly offered to take me out for dinner after the case ended and I accepted. Looking back now I realise I was taking a lot more time explaining the breakdown of the case to her than I ever had - before or since - with a client. We went to the nearby Chinese."

"How did Elle finishing up sleeping here that first time?"

"We were still in conversation, just enjoying each other's company and realised it was close to 1am. I offered to take Elle home - travel back with her in a cab I mean, for safety - by then she had told me she lived in Kew, but she said she intended to sleep over in a London hotel..."

"Quite regular practice for me as I did so for my job occasionally, or if I was meeting my girl friends in the City or attending a late event."

"...I offered her a free bed and coffee if she was happy to stay and talk. We talked for hours - gone 5 in the end - Elle eventually staying in your old room."

"Were either of you tempted to knock on the other's door?" Mary did not want to ask but could not help it.

"I wanted to, but felt he'd been so kind offering a free berth that I did not want to risk overstepping the mark. I couldn't sleep though. I didn't know what Sherlock felt, but realised how attracted I was to him and was listening for any sound he made, just in case he might think of coming in to me."

"And I am always being picked up on inappropriately formed phrases" John quipped.

"Oh my God. I had not realised I had said it quite like that." Elle cringed looking horror struck. Smiles all round at this most dramatic faux pa.

"What about you Sherlock? Did you even consider changing bedrooms?"

"No Mary. But I did not sleep either. I had a hot feeling I did not quite understand at the time - I do now thank you DOCTOR Watson [John had been about to interject his opinion on the source of those hot feelings!] - and was just very restless. We talked again in the morning, then Elle went back to Kew. I could not get her out of my head so I texted her the following morning, early, to see if she wanted to meet. I suggested Kew Gardens as it meant she did not have to travel far."

John then asked the question even Elle was intrigued about and had not asked before. "Did you subconsciously choose Kew as your destination, knowing it was near her home?"

"Subconsciously, I am not sure. I wanted to see her again, by that point desperately, so I thought she would be less likely to say 'no' somewhere near her than if I invited her to come back up to Baker Street. I could have suggested some more neutral ground somewhere so... maybe."

"Had you sex in mind by then Sherlock?" John asked trepidatiously.

"God, no. I just wanted to be with her again. I enjoyed talking with her."

"Did Sherlock or you suggest going back to the house?"

"We had a lovely walk, Mary, around the Gardens but realised we'd become really cold. I asked Sherlock if he would like to come back to my place to warm up. There was nothing more to it than that at the time. I did not know he had any feelings for me, other than me being a friend. I would never have made the first move, believing him to be disinterested in relationships."

Dry mouthed John asked "Was that the first time you made love then, there?"

"Yes. We were just about thawed out with hot coffee and good conversation again when I asked Elle to show me her bedroom, then moved over and kissed her. She did not respond. I thought I had read the signs totally wrongly."

"I was shocked."

"But then I looked in her eyes, and the way she looked back at me spurred me on to try again. Next time her kiss and touch were so gentle and inviting. God knows what my heart rate was. Anyway, for me it felt like a now or never moment."

"That was when I was really shocked, but by then I wanted you Sherlock. I wanted you more than breath itself. Whilst we were walking around Kew Gardens I kept hoping blue skies would rain so we would need to go back to mine to dry off. As it was, it was cold enough to need to go and warm up anyway."

"Was that first session a one off to start with, or were you making love all over the house straight away?" Intrigue had banished any decorum now from John's line of questioning.

"Not all over. Just my bedroom and then later, the now popular favourite place, the shower."

"How long have you lived in Kew?" Mary was interested in details outside just her friends' liaisons.

"I have been there for five years, that particular town house, nearly four. Em, Kaye and I all moved in together. Em and I were sharing before, then when Kaye met us we found a bigger place with a third bedroom. This one actually has five so there is a spare room for guests and the second attic room as you saw is my darkroom." Sherlock and Elle exchanged glances of significance at the mention of the converted bedroom.

"Oh God, I am really stiff."

"Sherlock! That is more than a little blatant" expressed John. "All this talk of Kew turning you on again?"

"No, NO! I did not mean that. I am stiff across my shoulders and neck; shit, now I've gone and done it."

"Would you like a massage?" Elle offered. "I give wonderful massages. Renowned for it. My house mates would queue up."

"Ironic" said John, "queuing in Kew. Elle, you said your house mates were K and M? What is it about initials and you girls?"

Elle moved Sherlock's single chair slightly forward so she could get behind it easily, encouraged her man to sit, then unbuttoned and helped him remove his shirt. Walking behind the chair, her hands, starting across the shoulders, massaged his shoulders, neck, into his hair and down each arm as she spoke.

"Coincidence actually. Em is Emma, she has been known as Em from an early age as her elder sister was named Amanda and their brother struggled with the similarities of their names. Kaye is short for Katherine. People would always write it with a C, so she began introducing herself as 'Katherine with a K'. It just so happens her best friend from school days is another Catherine, but with a C. Her name was shortened to Kaye so much, it stuck. You know my reasons as I explained before to Mary. Em and I have known each other for over seven years. We met Kaye just at the point I was thinking of getting a bigger place anyway, more floors, more bedrooms. Kaye and I were singletons at the time and Em had just got herself a new boyfriend. He did not last as it turned out, but they are both in what seems long-term relationships now."

"Do either of them know about Sherlock?"

"Not exactly John. They know I have been seeing 'a significant someone' and spending more time than a little away from Kew. I have not given them any details yet. Unfortunately Sherlock is not exactly a common name, so I am loathed to say too much to anyone too soon. He is rather well known, thanks to your blog. I would like to introduce him to my friends, and family at some time."

"Do they know anything about your relationship?"

"I keep getting text messages asking me what I am doing and where I am and if I am ok. They know I am in Central London, with a man, whose first initial is S. At the moment, that is enough."

"Don't you want anyone to know about us?"

"Of course, but after your reaction after Greg walked in on us, and with everything that has now happened with Mycroft, I am not sure I want to spread the word around all old London town that I am sleeping with Sherlock Holmes."

"Will your friends not be suspicious?" Mary enquired.

"Undoubtedly, and they will have come up with some ludicrous explanation why I am so secretive, probably that my man is married or something, but they will be patient with me."

"Do they know you are sleeping with someone?" Mary continued.

"They guessed when they found my washed bed sheets airing over the bannister when we had been there a few nights over Easter. They do not request, nor would they get, a précis of my love life."

"What have you told them?" Sherlock quizzed.

"Have a look Sherlock - here." She passed him her phone having found a thread with Emma, she still massaging his shoulders and neck. Sherlock read aloud:

M: Hi L. I c u had good Easter. Been here with S? Cleaned bedsheets, huh??? <3 Hope all good. Catch up with u soon. Mxx

L: Hiya M. Spent Mon eve to Thur home with S. Admit 2 fun. ;-) Will be back here in CentL for few days. Promise to meet soon. Good Easter?? Lxx

M: Not as good as yours. U been dieting with Shirley? 

L: Ooh yeah! Best diet ever! ;-o C family? Hope all ok.

M: Yes. All well thanks. B gets on well with everyone so all good. Had to sleep separately. Family protocols at my age! Difft floors, couldn't even sneak. No SV diet for me. :-(

L: Any word on K? Heard too ill 2 go w/ T.

M: Got bad bug so stayed with her Mum. No SV diet for her either. T away visiting bros now. Hope u made up for your useless friends.

L: More than. Will text K later in week.

M: Lunch in City Tues? Need to meet 4 your b/day, or u with S?

As he passed her phone back to her a puzzled Sherlock said "You need to explain some of this to me. What is the SV diet, why would you be dieting anyway, who is Shirley and who are B and T?"

"B is Ben, Em's boyfriend, Easter was spent with her strict Catholic family. I guess that explains the protocols - not married, no shared bed. T is Kaye's boyfriend Tony. Kaye was supposed to go with him to Strasbourg over Easter. SV and Shirley both refer to 1980s film classic called 'Shirley Valentine'. When questioned why she is going abroad to Greece, without her loveless husband Shirley says she is hoping to 'have sex for breakfast, sex for dinner, sex for tea and sex for supper - it's called the F plan!' That's the diet. It has nothing to do with food."

"Thank goodness, I love your shape, just as you are."

"Good. How do your neck and shoulders feel now?" Elle kissed the back of his neck.

"Wonderful. You have a deft touch. All that tension has melted away. In fact..." Sherlock took hold of Elle's left wrist off his left shoulder with his right hand and guided her around the chair to stand in front of him. He pulled her in close and rested his head against her tummy. "Hungry?"

"Not at this time of night, no."

"As Shirley would say, I am not talking about food."

"Well, in that case, I'm starving." Sherlock beamed.

"Last time we were here" started John carefully "we had quite a bit of fun as a foursome. Do you fancy playing 'together' again?"

"Don't see why not" Sherlock replied. "Got anything in particular in mind?"

"John and I were talking about our own sexual fantasies the other night. John's fantasy is one of control, but not in an obvious way." Both Elle and Sherlock looked at Mary and John curiously.

"I would like to control you Sherlock, verbally, but in a marionette-style, to make love to Elle, while Mary controls her."

"So you want Mary to give me instructions on how to make love to Sherlock, and you direct him, right?"

"Basically, that's it."

"But I don't understand. What do either of you get out of it?"

"We get to watch Sherlock, and you, making love. It is a voyeur's dream, because we get to decide the wheres and the whens and the whats while watching someone else. It is the ultimate pay per view. Obviously, if it has the desired effect I imagine we will be joining you at some point." 

"Sounds intriguing. How do you want us and where?" The detective was obviously keen.

"Your bed, naked, ten minutes. Try to relax. Oh, Elle, you might want to tie up your hair."

"OK. See you two in ten." The pairs separated. 

John and Mary enjoyed pulling the strings, directing the other pair's kisses, strokes and orals until inevitably the invisible bonds were detached and the pair in bed took control without control. By this point the bed was taking the weight of four lovers, as the Watsons joined the fray with an intimate moment of their own.


	15. Birthday request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrangement to meet close friends comes amongst music-making and mayhem, by Mycroft

Up, dressed and breakfasted by 10, the four friends piled into a cab in Baker Street, which took them to Hampstead. Elle had not been to John and Mary's before, and Sherlock only occasionally. It was a town house similar to that of Elle's in Kew, though smaller in general and less bedrooms, three in fact. Of course, Hampstead prices were premium. It was beautifully and simply furnished, very pale and white clean lines, nothing too girly, but extremely different from the dark walls and interiors of 221B. There was a turquoise-theme running throughout the place, from the large tiles behind the shower in the family bathroom, to the curtains in the lounge and chair covers in the kitchen. The three-piece suite was dark grey, but soft velour rather than rugged leather like Baker Street.

Elle helped Mary with vegetables as she planned a simple but tasty Sunday lunch. The one major addition to Baker Street this place had was a small, secluded back garden. It was not warm as yet, but sheltered so the two men sat, with glasses of lager, talking until called in for lunch. The girls were chattering away even more than the men nowadays. Their relationship had really blossomed.

After lunch John and Mary made the suggestion that Sherlock and Elle should come and stay with them over the bank holiday weekend ahead. All thought this was a lovely idea and the plan was in place. A pleasant evening and dinner later Sherlock and Elle said their farewells to John and Mary and left to return to Baker Street. Mary gave Sherlock a card - "for Elle, for Wednesday".

The couples kissed and embraced as they said their farewells around 10:30pm and Elle and Sherlock climbed into a cab.

"Did you tell them it was my birthday on Wednesday?"

"They heard me mention to my mother on the phone during the Easter weekend that it was your birthday at the end of the month, so I was quizzed to the exact date. It is very sweet of them. I still don't know what to get you?"

"You don't need to get me anything, but what I will want is you, Sherlock. As the clock counts to one second past midnight, I will want you already inside me. Other than that, I will want nothing else from you... except maybe a favour?"

"Name it."

"Could I introduce you soon to Em, and Kaye when she's better?"

"Of course. I would like that. You mentioned you were meeting them in town on Tuesday for lunch? Why not start off with a visit to Baker Street? I think your friends need to meet me and me them, to quash any ideas of married men or anything else they may have concocted for the reason they know so little about your lover."

"That would be great. Thanks." They had pulled up outside 221B and they alighted, with Elle grabbing her purse to pay the taxi quicker than Sherlock got to his wallet, so he found his keys to open the door.

Arriving home just after 11 the lovers sat quietly in the lounge, both in reflective mode. After a glass of red wine and with some instrumental music in the background Sherlock pulled Elle to her feet and they danced together slowly as they kissed and stroked the form of the other. Nothing structured, just swaying with their arms wrapped about one another and lips entwined. Sherlock intimated around midnight that they really ought to be heading for bed, bringing to an end their smooching. Music off and room closed down, after spending time in the bathroom apart the lovers met again in the bedroom. No pretence anymore: both sets of pyjamas stayed neatly folded on the chair.

Kissing her lips nearly the second her head touched pillow Sherlock moved in on his lady. Lips first, then he traversed her body gradually, starting with her throat, to her collarbones, décolleté, breasts, nipples specifically, abdomen, navel, scar and pubis. Her sighs encouraging him to continue, his tongue found her clitoris, then labia and finally sliding it within her. He danced his tongue around until he realised she was closing towards orgasm so he slowly and steadily let her calm down, stroking her breast and arm as he rested with his head on her stomach drinking in her ever stronger and now slowing breaths.

With a long passionate kiss full on the mouth her lover had finally returned to eye level. His eyes were hugely dilated, barely showing any of the glassy grey-green irises the man usually looked through. She raised her head to kiss him, turning slightly, manoeuvring him so he was now lying on his back. 

So to return the compliment. Deep on the lips, gentle to his chin, passionately on his throat, finding that ever faithful beautiful mole. Down his chest, around his areolae, biting one nipple slightly harder than she had intended, enough to feel him react with a gasp and cause a body position adjustment.

Her tongue found his bullet wound. She ran over and around it then descended further to his navel, laying her tongue flat she came back up his body to his sternum, her eyes looked into his face; his were closed, mouth open fractionally, breathing becoming more substantial but erratic. 

Back to his navel, circling it with her tongue, then downwards this time along his hairline so beautifully defined, dark against his porcelain body. Her left hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently then her grip released as she took one delicately into her mouth and sucked, rolling her tongue around it, moving it within the skin sack. Released from her mouth she gave the same pleasure to the second.

Moments later it too was released as her man sighed loudly and she concentrated her tongue to lick and caress every inch of his penile shaft. Sliding her hand up and down him she kissed, sucked and teased her way along his length, sucking his foreskin, tickling the corona rim all the way around with her tongue until she finally reached the tip, inserting the end of her tongue into his urethral groove before taking his glans and a couple of inches of his shaft into her mouth. Her body went into spasm. Orgasm warmed through every pore as she took him as far as she dared into her mouth, her tongue traversing around him, moving his dorsal vein so he sighed loudly again. She moaned openly. She really did love oral. He reached down and grabbed her hair, banded as ever at night, and pulled, forcing her release from him.

She then rose to eye level again, her eyes now fully dilated, a wry, nearly conniving smile on her lips knowing obviously where all this was ultimately leading. Her body was yearning for him now. He rolled her onto her back, placing himself between her legs, taking his body weight on his arms and knees. He lowered his torso against her and with his lips near her ear a soft whisper said "Wow, that was spectacular. Want me?"

"Want you" she purred back, "now".

Her words electrified him as he slipped a hand down her body again and he guided himself inside her. This is where he wanted to be. This was where she wanted him too. Hot, lovingly, rubbing their bodies together, harmoniously luxuriating in the pleasures of each other, writhing to the same now unheard melody. His moves were slow, long, deliberate. This was going to be love making, not just sex. This was ecstasy.

With her arms around his back Elle lifted her feet, wrapped her lower legs around Sherlock's calves, preventing too much thrust. She wanted to languish in the pleasure she was in. His penetration was so rigid, but his moves smooth, almost caressive, she felt his breath on her body, him sighing demonstrably. She was moving her pelvis now. He became quite motionless, she controlling the rise and fall of him within her. This was control beyond anything John had dreamt of. Every roll of her hips, tightening of her pelvic floor, was starting to send him into orbit. 

Orgasm again swam across her body like a wave crashing over rocks. It enveloped her. This time her pelvic muscles tightened and did not release entirely. Her breath was so shallow she had to turn her face away from his to take in what little air she could. He was close now, close to giving himself up to her absolutely. Her arms moved from his back to either side of his face as her hands pulled him in for a long intense kiss. He would fight her no more. With his arms either side of her head he took each of her hands off his face in turn, placed them palm up on the bed, put his own hands in them, interlinked their fingers and squeezed, pulsating himself hard and powerfully within her, generating high friction.

Their lips parted just long enough for them both to collect lungfuls of breath then his mouth and tongue re-engaged hers as his body shook with orgasm. Elle felt the moment of his release, followed by the pulsing as his body forced every last seed out of him. She released her ankles from his calves, moved her legs to the back of his thighs and pulled down, intensifying the moment. Wetness exuded from every pore on both of them. The heat in the bed was so high Sherlock automatically released one of her hands and threw his hand backwards, pushing the duvet off the pair of them. The cooler air from the room hitting their bodies sent Elle into another wave of erotic ecstasy. His body tensioned again; was this a second orgasm for him or the end of one long one? Irrelevant. It was sensational.

His body was already prone against her and suddenly she felt all his weight. He was no longer supporting any of himself. Relaxing her legs from behind his thighs and freeing her arm from his grasp, she stroked his hair and back, almost cradling him like a child. With his head on her shoulder he was oblivious to anything, from near exhaustion he had collapsed into sleep. He would be unaware that she was silently weeping from the ultimate pleasure he had bestowed on her. That had been their best time together so far. She had previously had more intensive orgasms, more in a row, more violent with him, but from the point of view of gratification, and feeling love, true love - this moment had been it. With her fingers twirled in his sweated dark brown locks, she too drifted to sleep.

\- * -

Elle woke to feel Sherlock moving his weight off her. They had stayed entangled all night. No semi-erection to start again with this morning. That boy was spent. As he felt her shifting as she drifted back into consciousness, he smiled, kissed her nose then moved himself more fully away so they were lying side by side. The duvet was back over them both.

"I did not mean to sleep on you overnight. Were you all right?" he asked.

"Fine. Your weight was well balanced over me and partially off to one side so it just felt lovely to have you sleep in my arms. Please feel free to do it anytime. I loved it."

"Did you put the duvet back over us? I remember throwing it off at one point, or did I dream that?"

"No, I remember you doing it too. If it was me that retrieved it I have not got a clue how or when. Are you sure it was not you?"

"I too don't remember if it was. I need a shower, or would you like to have a bath together?"

"A bath sounds lovely." Sherlock rolled out of bed, grabbed his robe and headed into the bathroom. Elle joined him there a few moments later in her robe. The lovers washed and caressed each other, sharing lots of loving touches and kisses but nothing more: both appreciating the intensity and erotica of the night before. As seemed to always happen, the bath was finished in the shower, so much more practical to wash hair, especially long hair like hers.

Sherlock drained the bath after he had finished his shower, and Elle followed him back into the bedroom where both dressed, still sharing kisses as clothes went on to their frames. Sherlock as ever was the first one dressed, left the bedroom, into the kitchen and put the coffee on. Elle heard him pull one of the kitchen chairs back, then he swore.

Walking into the kitchen, now fully clothed but still drying her hair, Elle asked "What is the matter? I heard you swear."

"My sodding, interfering brother. Look." Sherlock's voice was calm but evidently Mycroft was in trouble yet again. Elle took Sherlock's phone from him and read the text:

MH: Morning. Came to see you this a.m. Mrs H let me in. Need to talk to you urgently when you are no longer busy. Should both be careful not to get too cold in bed. Mycroft

"You mean Mycroft came into your bedroom this morning? He saw us? HE put the duvet back over us?"

"Very probably. Perhaps now he believes his 'little brother' is in a sexual relationship, but I never thought he would get visual proof. Oh, crap. I hope he could not see too much. Wonder what time he ca... Christ - it's nearly 11am!"

"Oh my God AND oh my God!" exclaimed Elle. "I did not realise it was anywhere near as late as that. Just how deeply were we sleeping for your 'big brother' ["Don't you start!"] to be able to walk into the room and neither of us know? I guess if it is that important you ought to find out what he wants."

"Oh great. After spending the most perfect night with the woman I adore, now I have to have a slanging match with my... don't you call him big... brother."

"No you don't. Unlock this again for me." Elle passed Sherlock his own phone. He unlocked it and obeyed her outstretched beckoning hand by passing it back to her. A couple of buttons and shuffles later and "... Good morning Mycroft. It is Elle actually. Sherlock is not able to talk at the minute. Could I pass on a message to him for you?... Oh... OK, got that. I will get him to look into it... Yes, we guessed it must be important, for you to feel you needed to come into the bedroom... well, it is not late if you were otherwise engaged until well past 3 this morning. You know how it is - you follow the love and lusts of your body whenever they grab you... oh, you don't know how it is? I see... Yes, I will tell him, verbatim I promise. Oh, by the way, thank you for covering us up this morning... well, neither of us did it so... all right... Sherlock has mentioned it, Spring Bank Holiday wasn't it?... Yes. Wednesday... Thank you Mycroft, very kind... I will. Goodbye."

"Well, you were a lot nicer to him than I was going to be."

"I didn't want you ruining the memory of last night with another tantrum with your brother."

"Tantrum?"

"Yes, tantrum. You have ranted at him twice since I have known you and I imagine you have been doing so since you were both young boys."

"What did he want you to tell me, 'verbatim'?"

"He needs you to look into a 'yellow alert' at Canada House on Trafalgar Square. There has been a break-in. As far as they can tell nothing has been stolen but they cannot work out for the life of them how the break-in occurred. They know someone uninvited has been in the building because they have been caught on CCTV cameras, which will be going to the Met for analysis. I have been called in by an acquaintance from Canada House, and Lestrade is also involved from the point of view of the Met and he recommended you also. Get yourself to Canada House, once you are properly awake, and ask for Mark Houghton, who will get you passed their security and in to investigate."

"You have got an eidetic memory. You even said 'I' when quoting back what Mycroft must have said."

"Not really. What I do is not too dissimilar to you with your 'mind palace', but I visualise things written down or drawn, and can then recall them. It is not eidetic. I cannot remember what I did on a specific day of a particular month or year, unless it was special to me anyway. By the way, I think mine is more of a 'mind bungalow' than palace. [She smiled at him, teasingly.] It is all on one level, very specifically laid out, but I imagine it works similarly, except I am not so disciplined as you so all the crap and clutter is there too, probably stowed in some loft space, as well as the stuff I want."

"What did Mycroft say when you thanked him for covering us up?"

"He bumbled and stumbled a little then said we looked cold. He said he averted his eyes when he got closer and just threw the duvet back on to the bed. Then ridiculously asked how we knew he had done it! Has Mycroft ever had any lovers you know of?"

"Not that I am certain about, no. I know he was never that interested in girls in his youth, he seemed to have more of a penchant for males so maybe that put him off for some reason. Do you think he's jealous of me?"

"I doubt it if he prefers boys. Perhaps Mycroft envies the fact you have a very intimate relationship with anyone. You're lucky enough to have close relationships with two people: John and me. He will not know of or consider your closeness to Mary of course. He's indirectly invited me to your parents' over Spring Bank Holiday. And he wished me a happy birthday. Could I be softening the older Holmes brother?"

"You definitely have a better knack with him than I have ever done. I had better go. Will you be ok? I don't suppose it will be too long."

"I will be fine. Just text me if you are going to be particularly late, or if there is anything I can do."

"Will do." With a kiss softly planted on her lips and the words 'I love you' silently formed, Sherlock disappeared out of the door.

Just over two hours later Sherlock sent a text to say he had finished solving the riddle at Canada House. However, Greg Lestrade had asked him to look into something else and therefore he expected to be much later than planned, apologising. Adding he would bring dinner back with him, rather than her have to meet him out or cook. Elle knew both John and Mary would be working at the GP practice - John had again been approached to cover locum duties whilst the latest 'flu virus did its worst through the surgery. Therefore she would need to find something else for her entertainment.

Thinking of illness her thoughts returned to her friend Kaye, who she knew was ill from the text thread she had shared with mutual house mate Em. A quick text would establish how Kaye was and whether she had recovered.

L: Hi K how are u? Hope better. Heard u were sick. So sorry Easter bad for u. Any hope of returning to Q soon? L xx

K: Hi L arrived back at Q this am. Well again thank goodness. Mum q'tined me! Really bad tho - norovirus we think. Glad no visitors whilst I was sick. Even T was banned. Where r u?

L: Central London. Staying with friend.

K: S?

L: Yes. S. God help me K, I love him.

K: Wow! Hear you had a good time at Q w/ S over Easter. Will we ever meet this mysterious S? Need to see you b4 Wed. R u about 2nite? Or could we meet in CentL tomorrow with M if available?

L: Tonight, difficult. S out till later - bringing dinner. Tomorrow wd b lovely. Could meet in City then go for lunch.

K: Fab. Where do u want 2 meet?

L: Heard of Speedy's on Baker Street? Would u like to meet outside there about 9:30am? Something I need to do before we go into town.

K: OK. No probs. Spoken to M - just arrived here too - she is available. Girls day out sounds nice. Fancy a show? Spending Wed with S?

L: Looking forward to tomorrow. Show wd be great. Wed with S hopefully, unless S working.

With time on her hands Elle sent an email to her old school friend Vivienne in hope there may be some PR work looming in the not too distant future. A reply said she would look into it and let her know if she heard of anything. Elle reflected how lucky she was to have four special girl friends: Em and Kaye - her house mates, Vivienne - from school days and forever, and now Mary - wife of her lover's best friend.

As 8pm came and went Elle was a little concerned but did not want to disturb Sherlock if he was on a case, knowing if his phone sounded it could literally put him in danger. Fortunately only 30 minutes later than expected Elle received a text.

S: On my way home with Chinese. See you shortly. SH

L: OK. Will get bowls warmed. TTFN. LJ x

Sherlock duly turned up, carrying Chinese and with a huge smile on his face. He went into his room and returned to the kitchen already in pyjamas and robe. As Sherlock explained why he had been called to Scotland Yard he and Elle helped themselves to Chicken in Black Bean Sauce, Beef with vegetables and plain rice, all of which was delicious and more than welcome. A glass of wine each and Elle went into and returned from the bedroom in pyjamas before they curled up on the sofa together, her stroking him, him reading another case file, this time for his detective friend, Lestrade.

After finishing reading the document he had, Sherlock said "By the way, I have told Greg I am not available on Wednesday under any circumstances. And have spoken to Mycroft and said the same thing to him too. Mrs Hudson is returning to Kent to see her brother so it'll just be you and me all day."

"That will be wonderful. Thank you Sherlock."

He then asked Elle what kind of day she had had.

"Quiet mainly. Did a little tidying, went for a wander into London, window shopping, sent a few messages."

"Who were your messages to?"

"An email to my friend Vivienne, to see if there are any PR jobs in the offing around at the moment - nothing on the grapevine yet, but she will keep an ear to the ground. As you know I am not in any rush. The other a text to my house mate Kaye. She is back at Kew now thank goodness, over her illness. Her Mum is a nurse at the local hospital near Teddington where she lives, and realised she was really sick so quarantined her. At least she has finally recovered. She has been poorly since before Easter. She has not even seen her boyfriend, Tony."

"Teddington - that means her mother must be nursing at Kingston?"

"Yes, I guessed it must be there too. Not sure though. That must surely be the main hospital in that area."

"Are you still planning to meet up with your friends tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Any chance I could meet them? You did suggest the idea anyway. Perhaps you could plan to introduce me to them before you go off for your day in the City? Do you know what you are doing tomorrow yet?"

"Would you? I would love that. I have made arrangements to meet outside Speedy's, I was going to ask if I could bring them up to meet you. I have no idea what they have planned for the day. I think we maybe going to see a show."

"And you are sure they will know who I am once we are introduced?"

"Definitely. You're pretty famous, being on the news, etc. I remember pictures of you in the deerstalker, trying to hide from the press and attracting more attention than ever, such a dichotomy. It was partly that, and John's blog, that drew me to ask you to get involved in Colin's case in the first place."

"Shall we play a little game with your friends then?"

"OK. I'm intrigued."

"Let's go to bed and decide the best way to do this. It might need a little assistance and coercion from Mrs Hudson."

"Sounds interesting."

Via the bathroom the pair headed to bed, removing pyjamas as now normal before getting in together. Sherlock outlined his idea as Elle ran her hand over his body. He was finding it more and more difficult to stay coherent as she took hold of his cock and started to play with it in her hand. Eventually he bowed to her pressures as light fumbling became a quality hand job coupled with oral sex. She knew exactly how to send his blood rushing and this had done it. Delicate fingering from him confirmed she was willing, damp and ready. He threw the duvet to the bedroom carpet, pulled her up off the bed by her hand, got her lying on the duvet, wrapping it over the pair to keep warm as he fucked her unceremoniously and brutally on the floor. 

It was short, violent, but she thought it was still sweet. So different from the wonderfully sensual love making they had the night previous which had lasted seemingly hours all together, this had been raw sex, even to the point Elle had bitten Sherlock on the clavicle again, making quite a bruise. He returned the favour by biting her left breast, over her heart, leaving his mark of love on her soft skin. 

After both of them climaxed, some time apart which was so unusual for them, he stroked her gently, asking if she was all right, then they separated, got back on the bed, returned the duvet with them and curled up together to cuddle the night through until dawn.


	16. Lovers and friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new case, a gathering of minds and a first meeting with the detectives

Dawn arrived and Elle woke to being smothered by kisses from a very amorous Sherlock. Leaving no doubt about his intentions, he led her, both naked with robes in hand, to the bathroom, where he proceeded to make passionate love to her under the shower, taking her to a pleasure-dome unmatched in their previous vertical love making encounters. The warmth of the water invited them to play for longer but they knew they were on a time constraint. With her legs eventually wrapped around his hips and her back against the wall, Sherlock pressed his advantage until both climaxed together. A soaping of each other and a rinse off, and they were in the bedroom in what felt like next to no time, dressing for the day. 

By 8:30 Sherlock was dressed and Elle heard him go to talk to Mrs Hudson, who could be heard laughing from her kitchen. The plan for the morning was in place. Breakfast, then just after 9:15 Elle walked out of the apartment and crossed the road away from Speedy's and the love of her life. Ten minutes later Elle saw her two friends alight from a taxi and stand in front of Speedy's cafe. She crossed the road carefully to meet them - Baker Street was always so busy.

The friends greeted one another with hugs and kisses on the cheeks and the two who had travelled the furthest gave the third three fancy paper birthday gift bags with wrapped presents and cards inside, plus a paper carrier containing cards posted to her Kew home. Elle prepared herself and more specifically her face and turned to her friends.

"I am glad you could meet me here. There is somebody I need to see." She rapped with the knocker on the door of 221B Baker Street. The door was opened by Mrs Hudson. "Hello, I am Lavinia Jensen. I think I am expected."

"Oh yes, that is right, Mr Holmes said a Ms Jensen would be calling. Please, up the stairs and the door at the top to your left. Knock then enter. I am sure Mr Holmes will be with you very shortly."

"Thank you." The three girls climbed the stairs, Em and Kaye looking slightly bewildered, Elle knocked then entered the now so familiar room as though she had never seen it before.

Sherlock came out from his bedroom and did not disappoint. He was immaculately groomed and looking as dashing as Elle had ever seen him. His hair was curly and tousled, dressed in his tight, dark purple silk shirt, no tie, a couple of buttons open at the neck, under a very deep grey suit. Kaye actually let out an audible gasp as he walked into the room flashing his glassy grey-green eyes. "Ah, yes. Mrs Hudson reminded me I was expecting a visitor this morning. Please, all of you, take a seat [he gestured towards the sofa]. I am Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. You are...?" He held out his hand to Kaye.

"Hi, Katherine Davis - Kaye." She shook Sherlock's hand. His hand stretched out towards Elle, she hoping her eyes would not give anything away.

"Hello Mr Holmes. Lavinia Jensen - Elle." A tame handshake passed with barely any eye contact. Finally now to the last in the row. 

"Hello, Emma Garrison - Em." She shook Sherlock's hand too.

"Ah, yes. Kaye, Elle, Em. Interesting. It is you Ms Jensen who contacted me. What can I do for you? Hold on, let me see..." Elle could see Sherlock was enjoying himself and hoped passionately she would not give anything away. He stared at the group of friends.

He sat in his chair, pausing with his fingers steepled under his chin, apparently analysing the women. "The three of you are house sharing, yes? Yes, of course. South, no, south west of London I think. Kingston? Wimbledon? Kew? Richmond? Never mind. Mmm. Now the quandary you have is about relationships. I see that all three of you have lovers, at least one of you had sex this morning, most of you have met the others' partners and yet one partner, yours I think Ms Jensen, appears to be quite elusive, so much so, not only have the others not met him, but you have not told them anything about him either. Not even his name or what he does for a living. How am I doing so far?" Elle did not answer. She daren't.

"Unbelievable" said Kaye, both her mouth and eyes wide open now looking at Sherlock in awe and admiration.

"Quite remarkable, how on Earth could you tell we live in Kew or that one of us has had sex this morning?" queried Em.

"Ah, two of you then. Well it is quite simple. I use all my senses and powers of deduction and observation, when necessary. Of course none of which I needed for this as Em, Kaye, [he stared at them each in turn, looking for their reaction] I am S!" He said these three last words very deliberately and slowly, a beautiful smile breaking across his face.

"Whaat?" stumbled Em.

"Emma, Kaye, this is Sherlock Holmes. My boyfriend, my lover. I have been staying here with him recently when not at Kew."

"No, you are pulling our leg, surely?"

"No, Kaye. Elle wanted me to meet you. I am afraid this little charade was my idea - part of my gift for Elle's birthday tomorrow. Sorry."

"This is why I could not give you more than just his first initial over the phone. Just how many "Sherlock's" do you think there are?"

"But you are the famous detective, aren't you?"

"Yes, Em, I am the err, famous, detective. Elle and I met on a case a couple of months ago."

"Oh my God, Elle. No wonder you kept it quiet."

"I am afraid you will need to now too, if I may ask you. Very few people outside our inner circle know of our love for one another. I do not want Elle, or either of you now for that matter, to be put into any danger because of our relationship."

A timid knock resonated the door. On the ok to enter Mrs Hudson opened it wearing a huge smile. "Did you surprise them then Elle? I hope you girls like Sherlock. Maddening creature really, but lovely with it, even if he has shot holes in my bloody wall. Sherlock, I am off now, back to see my brother - will be home by the weekend hopefully - you'll be at John's. Elle, have a lovely birthday tomorrow dear. I have left a little something for you from me with Sherlock. Nice to have met you both. Sure I will see you again. Bye all."

"Goodbye Mrs Hudson." Elle stood up and gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"Goodbye Mrs Hudson. I hope your brother is well on the mend now he is home from hospital."

"Thank you Sherlock. You know Elle, you are in danger of turning him into a nice and caring person!" She waved and turned before Sherlock could come back with any retort (a rarity for him - he recalled John saying he would outlive God to have the last word) and was down the stairs and into the street in a far more spritely fashion than anyone may have imagined for a woman of her years.

"You really are S, aren't you?" Em was studying Sherlock's and Elle's faces.

After standing up to embrace Mrs Hudson Elle had sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair instead of with her friends, his arm naturally curling around her, resting against her thigh. "Yes. Sherlock is S from my texts. He wanted to meet you so I thought today would be good as we were meeting in town anyway."

"Elle has mentioned you both to me and I thought it unfair you knowing nothing about me but I do have some strange enemies, which is why we need to be careful. As Elle pointed out you refer to your partners as B and T in texts so, so long as I remain as S, hopefully there should be no problem. My brother could give you nightmares if he ever told you what can be picked up from texts floating around."

"Fascinating." Em truly looked awestruck by the whole situation.

"Anyway, what is your plan whilst you are in the London today?" enquired Sherlock.

"We are going to start with a light lunch somewhere, then we have tickets to a show this evening, so a proper meal first, after some serious retail therapy, well, quality window shopping at least." Kaye was more than happy to explain.

"Do you want Elle to open her gifts while you are out today together or would you rather she leave them here for her to have tomorrow?" Sherlock had eyed the bags at the side of the settee.

"We have one gift for Elle for later as part of today, but the rest she can have..." suddenly Kaye blushed, putting her hand across her mouth, and giggled in such a girly fashion Sherlock was partially taken aback. "I think she can have the rest tomorrow." A knowing look flashed between Elle's two best friends.

Em questioned the man in the room: "Could you tell me something please, may I call you Sherlock? How did you know earlier one of us has had sex this morning? Is it to do with scent?" Em obviously felt body conscious and wondered if others could detect pheromones or something too.

"Please both of you call me Sherlock. No. It is usually more to do with the flush of the skin, but I was not exactly grasping at straws: I knew, from personal experience, Elle had." A wink then a modest smile rippled his stunning lips and the girls - all three this time - giggled, Elle's cheeks burning red at his open confession.

A knock on the outer door interrupted proceedings and Sherlock leapt, gazelle-like, out of his chair and straight down the stairs to open it, knowing Mrs Hudson was by now on her way to Kent.

A few moments later two men entered the room, one already in full flow about the reason for his calling. "...straight forward Sherlock, but this has got the whole Yard buzzing. I have phoned John to meet us here too, he said he is available. This could be big. And before you ask I have remembered you are unavailable tomorrow. You did not say... sorry, I didn't know you were with clients..."

"These are not clients Greg, they're Elle's friends. Elle." He paused to give her chance to introduce her friends to the new arrival.

"Greg I would like you to meet Kaye Davis and Em Garrison, my house mates from Kew. Girls, this is Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Sherlock helps him with some of his weirder cases." The girls rose from the settee and shook hands with the new arrival, who spotted the 'happy birthday' bags, now on a table, as he took Elle's hand, then kissed her cheek.

"Birthday - whose birthday?"

"Mine. Tomorrow."

"Ah, so that is why you're not going to be available Sherlock." The man being talked to raised a very angular eyebrow at the other man's comment and knowing smile.

"Morning. It seems very busy up here." A third male had just joined the group all now standing in the middle of the room. John Watson had let himself in and come up the stairs during the introductions to Greg. He too kissed Elle on the cheek on his arrival, passed over a very large Happy Birthday bag holding wrapped presents ["for tomorrow from Mary and me"] then embraced her far less formally than the DI. Elle now introduced Em and Kaye to him.

"Right. You guys look as though you have a different kind of party to be getting to. See you both soon. Sherlock, I will see you tonight." She went over to him for a quick peck, but that was never going to happen. Sherlock held the tops of her arms and kissed her properly, intensely, deeply, disregarding the larger than usual and completely spellbound audience.

"Have a good day ladies. What time do you think you will be home tonight?"

"Somewhere around 11 I imagine, if we are seeing a show."

"Try not to be any later. I have a promise to fulfil, remember?" He winked and smiled.

"Be careful." This time she did get away with just a peck. "All of you, be careful." Her latter comment being pointed at John and Greg as well. After a chorus of 'nice to have met you's from both sides Elle led her two friends out of the door on to a bright but cool Baker Street.

"Oh my God, Elle. When you said you had a lover..." Em looked both shocked and impressed.

"He's gorgeous" added Kaye dreamily.

"Yes, he is rather" Elle agreed, feeling very pleased her friends had finally met her man. A walk and much hilarity later the girls found themselves arm in arm, deep in conversation, some serious window and proper shopping done, plus a lot of catching up as in recent times the three of them had spent so little time alone together.

"I will grab my coat and scarf and be with you." Sherlock unhooked his outerwear from behind the flat door and was just about to wrap the scarf around his neck when Greg stopped him.

"You appear to have been injured Sherlock?" 

"Injured? No. It seems, passionate love making is not always totally pain-free." A wry smile and the scarf once again covered up the evidence of his mauled clavicle. John gave him a raised eyebrows 'I told you so' look as the three men descended the stairs and left the confines of the flat.


	17. Happy birthday...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise realised and desire fulfilled the perfect day begins at midnight

It was 11:10pm as Elle leaned in through a cab window and kissed her best friends good night outside 221B, waved having opened the door with her key, then closed it behind her.

Up the stairs and into Sherlock's flat she went, having had a delightful day with her friends. She found her lover lying on his side on the sofa, in pyjamas and robe, reading as ever. She went over to kiss him. 

"Have you had a good day?"

"Fabulous. You?"

"Busy. Did not get back here until about an hour ago. I ate out with John on the hoof, but it was a long day. Hope you and the girls had more fun."

"We have had a wonderful time. So great to spend some time together. It seems like forever since it was just the three of us. They treated me to a meal at The Ivy, went to the theatre to see "Relative Values" with a cast to die for, then back here to you. I need a shower then I will be all yours."

"Would you like company in the shower?"

"If you have not showered already, but I would prefer 'company' in bed if that is an alternative. I can be showered and in there in ten minutes."

"See you in ten. It will take me just short of that to finish reading." Another kiss and she was in the bedroom, undressed, make-up removed, hair tied back and clipped up, in and out the shower, refreshed, teeth cleaned and back in the bedroom towelling dry as she heard Sherlock go into the bathroom to clean his teeth, then enter the bedroom as she draped her damp towel over the corner of a radiator and slipped in between the sheets.

Sherlock hung his robe on the door, stood aside the bed and peeled off his pyjama top and, with his marble-white torso already glistening, covered in sweat beads, began to drop the bottoms off his waist. Elle sat up and as the pyjama bottoms fell, she pulled him closer by his hands then released them, taking his cock gently and guiding it to her mouth. His sigh was long as he held her head to him, stroking her hair as she worked nothing short of magic on his body. He stopped her. He was getting far too aroused to dare let her take him any longer. 

Moving away he sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs under the duvet. His hand began caressing her body, long sensual strokes up and down her breasts and tummy, now lubricated with their own anticipation sweat beads. He slipped one, then two fingers inside her, she sighed then writhed a little but only to fully open herself to him. Removing those then circulating her clitoris, he lifted his body on to hers and pushed his cock inside her. Delirious moans of pleasure from both sides erupted. His eyes closed, his lips connected with her neck and walked upwards. As he closed his lips on hers, his tongue sliding softly into her mouth, a mechanical alarm was heard from the bedside table, beneath the only lamp in the room omitting light.

Sherlock's phone had announced the beginning of a new day, her day. "Happy Birthday Elle" he whispered kissing her cheek and then passionately on her lips again. Her response was one single word, carried on the breath of a loving sigh.

"Sherlock." He had fulfilled her request. As his phone had chimed midnight his body was inside hers as promised. Sweetly, ecstatically, their love making was sensual and erotic. 

In bed Sherlock was a total enigma. He could be strong and relentless, often brutal if the occasion was right and it was what both of them wanted. Yet he could be so gentle, kind and passionate with demonstrative sensuality, not just the raw lust she often sparked in him. A glance into her eyes and he knew instinctively which mode would suit her better tonight. Little jolts here, little squeezes there, they again played their merry tune together. 

One thing surprised Sherlock more than any other about Elle: just how easy he found making love to her. After avoiding physical contact with anyone for so long - he had regularly shunned even an honest handshake from a satisfied client or gratitude from Lestrade or another member of the policing fraternity he had impressed - he found an inordinate amount of pleasure sharing touches, strokes and kisses, especially kisses, with the woman he found was yet again in his arms, under control of his loins and desires, and wanting his love and attention more than anything this whole planet could offer her.

After nearly thirty minutes of caressing, kissing and loving a glint from one pair of eyes to the other conveyed more than words as the tempo of their tango increased. A guttural moan from her electrified his ears as her legs locked around his thighs, imbibing his cock deeply within her as she fired his body and soul with her sex and passion. As the pair embraced after a shared and intensely voracious enthralling climax to their endeavours, Sherlock whispered with a slightly dry voice, "I have a little gift for you".

"It will never match what you have given me already" was her breathless retort. He produced a small black box about 10cm square and just under 3cm deep. It was tied with a bright green ribbon crossed underneath and bowed on the top. She undid the bow and lifted the lid of the box. There was a yellow gold, chunky but feminine bracelet inside. "Oh thank you Sherlock, it's lovely."

"You're lovely Elle. It is called an S-link chain. I thought that would be appropriate. Wear it and think of me." She took it straight out of the box and put it automatically on to her right wrist. The most intensely beautiful kiss transpired after the gift. Elle eventually rolling on to her side, Sherlock curled, spoon-fashion behind her, they fell asleep with his arm across her body, his head snuggled into the back of her shoulder.


	18. ...love Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inhibitions deserted, Baker Street becomes the venue of Sherlock's unconventional birthday present

Elle woke to the sound of running water. It was nearly 9am and Sherlock was drawing a bath. She rose and slipped into her robe, made the bed, then walked out into the bathroom to find him. He was sitting on the edge of the bath, running hot water into a frenzy of bubbles. He kissed her, then took her hand and helped her into the water, squeezing a natural sponge over her body, soaking her. She lay back and relaxed in the lavender scented water. Her eyes were closed but she heard a splash and felt the water displace as her beau joined her. He rubbed her with the sponge. She opened her eyes, took the sponge and started to wash him too. They finished with their feet behind one another's backs, their arms around each other, just enjoying the moment and the water around them. Intense kissing and stroking fired all the senses within her, she was yearning desperately for him now.

Just as Elle was about to climb out of the bath, Sherlock rose, pulled her up then clambered out of the tub and turned on the shower. He let her go in first, following her. Rinsing away the suds they both then showered and washed their hair. The water was very hot, the shower cubicle steamy, and about to get steamier. Elle watched the water run down Sherlock's chest. Her eyes opened wide and she smiled. He returned that smile then nodded and leaned against the shower wall. She slid her hands down the fronts of his legs as she lowered herself to her knees and took the fullness of his soft manhood into her mouth, as she grabbed his hips, licking water droplets off his form. 

Rotating her tongue around him again and again, it played with his foreskin as she felt him gorge with blood and transform. Sucking then licking, short then longer draughts, she brought him quickly to full erection. She wanted to take him a lot further, but he was slowing her down, positively groaning in the ecstasy of her attention. He took her hands from his hips and pulled her up to standing, lifting her immediately off her feet, turned around so her back was against the wall and entered her fully. With her legs over his hips and feet locked against one another behind him she pulled his head into her breasts and ran her fingers through his hair as he bent and stretched his legs using the movement to thrust further and further into her. Skin to skin, muscle to muscle, sex to sex, the pair delighted in the bodies of one another, enjoying their wet enthusiastic fornication.

As his teeth latched again on to her breast and she felt a surge from him, her head rolled back and she let out a cry like a wounded banshee, tightening everything. He powered his way through the moment, but after, his knees buckled and she had to release her legs to put her feet on the ground before they were about to fall. Pulling apart to save an accident she steadied him against the wall until he re-opened his eyes and managed to take his own weight on his legs. He swore loudly.

"Bloody hell, what was that?"

"No idea" she panted, "but whatever it was I hope we find out again some time. Can I go back to bed now? I am more shattered than I was when I came in here in the first place!"

"You're shattered? Charming!"

"Oh, of course. You did do most of the work." She smiled, brushing his face tenderly with her hand. "I need a drink. What do you fancy?"

"I squeezed some oranges before running your bath, there is Champagne in the fridge as well, so Bucks Fizz would be great. Bring it into the bedroom. I will make the bed."

"I did that as I got out of it."

"Actually, I need to get the Bucks Fizz. You..." There was a knock on the outside door. "You go and answer the door. I thought - and hoped - we wouldn't be disturbed today."

Wrapping a towel around her head she put on her robe, ensured she was decent and skipped down the stairs like a teenager. "Yes, that is me. Oh, thank you, they're beautiful" Sherlock heard her say to some unseen face. Elle walked up the stairs slowly, carrying an enormous, and definitely very expensive bouquet. It was tied, arrangement-style, in clear cellophane, with a water bubble at the bottom.

"Wow" said Sherlock as the Champagne cork left its bottle into his hand, "who are they from?" He began pouring the bubbly into two long flutes, rescuing a pair of crumpets from the toaster and coating them with butter.

"Here, there is a card." She read it aloud. "Dearest Elle, Many Happy Returns and very best wishes to you and my brother. Regards Mycroft."

"Oh my God, he's human!" Sherlock exclaimed. Elle laughed then placed the bouquet in the middle of the kitchen table, admiring it, turning it to decide which angle to put it for best impact on walking into the room, but it did not matter. It was just perfectly stunning from every direction.

"I guess he saw more than he was willing to admit to when he came into your bedroom a couple of days ago." Elle removed the damp towel from her head, taking a bite of her crumpet.

"What makes you say that?" Sherlock was adding the fresh orange juice to the flutes now, noticeably there was more fizz than bucks this time.

"Well, he did not call you 'little' brother, did he?" She grinned mischievously. Sherlock threw the cork at her. They both laughed and returned to the bedroom. Sherlock had been busy whilst she answered the door. He had gathered up all her birthday presents and laid them out on the bed.

"I don't ever remember being so popular." Sherlock had piled all the cards together. She started opening those first, each finished their crumpet.

"You will be popular with the florists if you insist on answering the door like that!" Elle looked down. Though modestly covered, her nipples were now erect and stimulated, the satin cloth over them and the slight dampness from the drips from her hair now exacerbated the look. "Wow!" Sherlock repeated.

Both of them sat on the bed with their legs crossed, Sherlock occasionally stroking her back with his hand subconsciously. After opening the cards she pulled forward a big single parcel. Beautifully wrapped in bright white gloss paper and tied up with a huge purple bow the label read 'To Elle, Happy birthday, Best wishes, Mrs Hudson x'.

"Gosh, this is heavy. From Mrs Hudson, look." She opened the parcel and they both began to laugh. A set of white and off-white striped Egyptian cotton sheets and matching pillow cases, a perfect fit no doubt for Sherlock's kingsize bed.

"Well done Mrs Hudson. Another set for rotation" he grinned. 

"That's actually so thoughtful and kind. How sweet of her. See, she does remember young love after all."

"Yes, how sticky it often is. Ow." Sherlock had received a little dig in the ribs from Elle's left elbow.

The sentiments on all the parcels were roughly the same. The next she opened was a bag from Em and Ben. There were two gifts inside: a pair of yellow gold creole earrings and a smart long-sleeved t-shirt from a high-end designer collection.

The next - a bag from Kaye and Tony - was a new pair of black skinny jeans from Elle's favourite jeans manufacturer, and a small black leather cross-body handbag.

"What was the gift they took with them yesterday for you? I meant to ask last night but we were on a time line."

"It was best-seats-in-the-house and back stage passes to the show. Must have cost a bomb, and we met the cast after the performance. Brilliant play."

The next bag was signed from Em and Kaye only. "Interesting. Why something else, I wonder?" Again there were two parcels. Opening the first she gasped, on opening the second she just laughed loudly, head back, mouth wide open. Sherlock demonstrably collapsed backwards on to the pillows having seen the boxed vibrator and set of cock rings Elle had just unwrapped. He sat back up, putting his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder, cuddling her from behind.

"Your friends obviously care for you very much Elle" he said smiling, kissing the side of her neck.

"Oh my. I just remembered Kaye's expression yesterday when she handed over the birthday bags, remember her going so red and giggling? No wonder. She'd bought Sherlock Holmes a cock ring!"

"Serves her right feeling embarrassed. How do you think I feel?"

"Who cares. Think how you will feel when you wear one!"

"Seriously?"

"Ooh yeah! Anyway, they did not know you were you when they bought them, did they?"

"I guess not." Sherlock slugged his Bucks Fizz as Elle reached for a large slim box. "That was given me yesterday to give to you. It is from Greg. He apologised he did not wrap it himself, there is no label. He got it from Fortnum's." Elle ripped the paper off a box of best quality chocolate biscuits from the renowned retailer, covered in their duck-egg blue signature wrapping.

"Umm, lovely. That is so kind of him. Thank him on my behalf when you next see him. I will thank him personally when I see him too. He must have picked them up yesterday."

Finally Elle came to a large decorated paper bag with a tag reading 'To Elle all our love on your birthday, John and Mary xx'.

Elle opened the bag. Again there were multiple presents inside: a medium sized thin package, very lightweight; a small box, slightly larger than the one Sherlock's bracelet had been in, surprisingly heavy, and an even larger square box wrapped in blue paper - heavier still. Each box had an individual label on it. The largest, surprisingly, said 'To Sherlock - for Elle - have fun xx'.

"I think you are supposed to open this one." Elle passed Sherlock the box. He tore off the blue paper quickly, the box was just plain cardboard. He opened it and now he laughed loudly. "What is it?" Sherlock held up four long lengths of black braided cord, the supple kind curtain ties and some dressing gown belts are made from. Sherlock's eyes suddenly looked menacing. He flicked his eyebrows at her and was just moving in for a sneaky kiss when she said "Was that in your parcel too?" He picked up a much smaller package off the bed, only just slightly larger than a ring box. He snapped it open and found two keys.

"I wonder what on Earth they are for?" He handed them over to Elle who looked at them, just as puzzled as he was. "Finish your other presents."

"It says 'To Elle - for Sherlock - enjoy xx' on this one. Dare I open it I wonder?" She did. Inside was the most beautiful gossamer sheer midnight purple negligee with tiny gold star sequins sewn upon it.

"Put it on" breathed Sherlock. Elle climbed off the bed, took a quick draught of Bucks Fizz, dropped her satin robe to the ground and slipped on the negligee, walking across the room and back. It was long sleeved, covering to just beyond halfway down her thighs, and tied with a matching material belt. It was simply exquisite. "Well, that is a waste."

"I think it is beautiful; it feels wonderful on the skin. Do you not like it then?"

"Like it? I love it but you are never going to wear it more than a few minutes. I cannot describe in words what it is doing to me. And I would hate to damage it. You look sensational. I... oh". He dropped on to his elbows and his head swung backwards, his eyes raised to the ceiling.

"Is it turning you on Sherlock?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I might just have to find out." She reached for his robe belt.

"Hey, it's your birthday, not mine."

"I know, and amongst all these kind and thoughtful presents it is you I want more than any."

"I am sure you have another present to open from John and Mary."

"Oh yes. Saved by the gift. For now." She opened the last package. "Oh. Perhaps not saved after all." Her eyes dilated and she sniggered. Inside the last box was a pair of satin sheathed handcuffs. "Well, at least now we know what the keys are for." She held them so Sherlock could see.

"Oh, shit." They both laughed. "The nerve of them. Our friends, they're supposed to be."

"They obviously remembered we said we had tied one another up. Surrender Mr Holmes. You are now going to be my captive." She picked up the box with the keys in it, tried the lock of the handcuffs first ensuring they were paired, then fastened Sherlock's wrist into one. She took two of the four pieces of cord, tied both ends of one piece around the headboard making a tight band, linked the handcuff chain through it and fastened the second manacle on his other wrist. 

Sherlock capitulated. It was no good fighting the inevitable; she was going to tie him up, then eat him alive. Roping his feet together with the second cord she then tied off his feet cord to the bed leg so he could move his own about but not separate them. Actually undoing the belt on his robe this time, Elle found his cock erect and glistening. She removed her new negligee and put her satin robe back on. "I don't know whether to ride you or suck you. What do you think?"

"Suck first. Now Elle" he croaked. No time for refinement she gripped his cock, opened her mouth and slipped her lips down his length. "Oh, God" was his exclamation. Sliding her mouth up and down him, she took easily as much pleasure from this as him then, she concentrated on opening her throat muscles. In the full sense of the meaning she deep throated him, surprisingly, as it was the first time she had ever tried to do it, without any gag reflex. He, on the other hand, could barely breathe. "Oh, shit." He was really fighting the shackles now. He wanted to take her so badly.

Extricating him steadily from her mouth, continually licking him, keeping her lips and tongue against him until he was totally free to the air again she moved up the bed, straddled him, knees bent, and dropped herself on to him so comprehensively she cried out loudly and went into orgasm nearly immediately. Her eyes found his and there was an expression she had not seen for some time. A look of desirous lust, not love, was scrawled across his angular features. Pulling her internal muscles as tight as she possibly could she rode him quick and hard to orgasm, taking herself there again too, him pulling against the handcuffs and ties in absolute rapture. Under his breath he sighed "Happy birthday Sherlock". A grin of total satisfaction radiated across his face.

"It's not your birthday." She was re-finding the keys to release him. She unlocked his wrists.

"Are you quite sure? Damn, that was good. Holy f..." She planted her lips firmly on his, sliding her tongue deep in his mouth. As the kiss finally ended "...uck" he finished. "Hungry?" She nodded. "Me too." His eyebrow flicked.

Sherlock sat up, undid the tethers on his ankles, grabbed the pillows from the other half of the bed, made a supportive mound, shuffled Elle on to it and fastened up her wrists in the handcuffs as his had been. Climbing off the bed he tied one of her ankles with the cord she had used on him, then selected another from the box in order to unsubtly tie her other ankle, leaving her legs wide apart. Throwing the bedding back over her to keep her warm he said winking "I'll be back shortly" when her mobile phone rang. He passed it to her, then tying his robe as he left the room, empty crumpet plate in hand, he, for the first time, heard her one side of a conversation.

"Hi Mum... thank you... 21 again of course, you know that...Yes, I am having a wonderful day thank you. I have had some lovely cards and presents - thank you for your card... yes Katherine and Emma brought it with them when they came into Central London and treated me yesterday... I am spending today with my boyfriend, we are about to have an early lunch... Yes, well, we have been off a normal time line all day, what with opening cards and presents, and I was late back last night as the girls took me to the theatre. Barely made it to bed before midnight... I'm a little tied up at the minute... Yes, Mum, I promise, but not over the phone. I will see you soon, then I will tell you all about him... OK... ooo, looks like I have Champagne with my lunch... yes, he is quite a romantic... no we won't. No-one with any sense drives in London anyway... Thanks again Mum. Bye, love, bye."

"A little tied up?? I think you are a lot tied up to be fair."

"Yes, but I was not going to say that to my Mother now, was I? Even she would probably have seen through that un-subtlety. Well, maybe not. What have you got there?" Sherlock pulled the bedcovers off again, leaving Elle semi-wrapped in her robe.

"Champagne, prawns, chocolate, and fruit... we must make sure you get some of your five a day." He smiled at her and lowered a tray to the bedside table. There was Champagne in an ice bucket but no orange juice this time; juicy prawns, tiny plum tomatoes, chocolate coated strawberries, then some other easy to handle bite-sizes of fruit - melon, grapes, raspberries, some orange segments, some more uncoated strawberries and giant chocolate buttons, "Lunch" clarified Sherlock. Elle realised she was about to be fed. He poured two glasses of Champagne and held one glass to her lips and the second to his own. "Cheers!"

So this was Mr Holmes' idea of playtime? Or was it torture? Elle was unsure. All she knew was she was all trussed up, extremely vulnerably, and at his mercy, and she could not be happier.

Sherlock sat on the bed at her side feeding her first, then himself. The prawns were fuel only, delicious as they were the pair were really only interested in the fruit and chocolate. The poor tomatoes were left abandoned altogether. After eating the prawns, out came the first piece of fruit he fed her, melon - it dribbled down her chin softly. He licked away the trace and returned with a raspberry, grape, strawberry, another piece of melon, more raspberries, a piece of orange and more strawberries, then a chocolate covered strawberry. 

This was not torture, but he was definitely tantalising her. She felt his weight move on the bed and he settled kneeling between her legs. He touched her lips again with a couple of the chocolate buttons, which she ate, then some for him, placing a further two on one of her breasts, near the nipple. They melted quickly and he licked it off her skin. It demonstrated just how hot she was at that moment. Now he let her see and smell a coated strawberry and as she reached for it, he moved it slightly further away. She craned her neck upwards to try and get the fruit and, whilst being distracted in doing so he inserted an ice cube inside her with his other hand.

Now this was torture! The chilled sensation set every nerve ending in her body a-jangling, as he rolled the ice within her as it melted. She finally got her strawberry and enjoyed every morsel, but her mind had wandered substantially away from food. "Feed me Sherlock" she breathed. He touched her lips with more melon but she turned her head away and her eyes burned into his.

"Oh, I see, you want me to feed you? A shame that, as I intend to feed me." Moving down the bed breaking eye contact Elle felt another ice cube enter her, followed by a finger, then it withdrew and in went his tongue. It felt to her as though he could lick far enough inside her to reach her navel; he lapping the water and her flavour as the ice melted and chilled her walls within, nibbling her intently. She was trying every meditative technique she knew to remove her mind from that area, not wanting to orgasm yet. Another ice cube, then another. She was thirsty, all the more so knowing he was drinking, drinking the very essence from her. She could resist no longer. Her body convulsed and she tried to tighten her thighs around his head but could not do so thanks to the cords restraining her. She screamed loudly.

He retracted his tongue, then his lips, teeth and tongue played on her clitoris. Her body felt it would explode. She had never known such an intense orgasm without him being inside her. Sherlock moved up the bed. "Do you want me Elle?" came his soft whispered deep baritone voice.

"Yes" she sighed.

"When?"

"Now, dammit."

"Tell me what you want Elle."

"You!!" she bellowed, loud enough for probably the whole of Baker Street, if not W1 to hear. Finally she got what she desired. He slipped his cock inside, pushed his hands under her backside and pressed himself so forcefully in her she was again in orgasm before he had chance to draw breath. She wriggled and writhed, straining against her bindings and wanting more, more, more of him, using those Kegel-trained muscles to their fullest advantage. She wanted him to join her and, sure enough, his orgasm was not long behind, she fighting him all the way to intensify his ecstasy.

Knowing the feeling he had after an extensive orgasm, he released the manacles on her wrists immediately, then retreated off the bed and squatted to his haunches as he untied each ankle. Elle rolled over, sat up, stood up, then collapsed on to the floor beside the bed, her chest heaving, moaning, drawing in what seemed as much breath as the room could hold. He moved swiftly to her side.

"Elle. Are you all right?"

"Damn you, Sherlock! Damn you to hell!" She curled in a ball on her side, half laughing, half crying. Sherlock pulled her robe around her, grabbed a pillow and slipped it carefully under her head, still looking concernedly at the wreckage of the woman lying in front of him. Gradually her heart rate started to decrease and the gulping of air reduced to generous deep breathing. Her eyes started to re-focus and body unfurled stretching out on the carpet, tension eventually leaving her limbs and loins.

Realising finally she was ok, Sherlock rose, tied closed his own robe, and left the room with a tray of prawn remnants, tomatoes, and the odd piece of fruit. Two abandoned plain strawberries were destined to drown as he dropped them into the empty Champagne flutes, standing on the bedside table along with the bottle and bucket. Elle pulled herself together and went into the bathroom, where she splashed her face then rinsed down her body in the shower, holding her still damp hair out of the way. She put her robe back on after a gentle and inefficient towel-down, and joined Sherlock in the kitchen, the satin again clinging to her dampened form.

"You are quite extraordinary" said the detective.

"I am?"

"Were you aware that you ejaculated? When you were tied up, just now?"

"No. I was not even sure women could. I thought that was an urban myth."

"You really are a most sexual being." She walked over to him and put her hands on his hips, gazing into his eyes.

"Is this what you had planned all along for my birthday?" she asked biting her lower lip softly.

"Well, I did not know you were going to get so many interesting toys to play with, but once I knew Mrs Hudson was going to be away, a day of love making had been my intention, yes. Don't tell me you would rather go out into the City or something?"

"Oh, God no."

"Thirteen hours so far. How are you enjoying your birthday?"

He leaned against the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee to bubble through. "Very much." She raised her head and kissed his lips gently, caressively, moving her arms to around his neck. His arms wrapped around her in a truly loving, non-sexual embrace. "Ummm."

"What do you mean 'ummm'? What are you thinking or planning now?"

"You mentioned the word 'toys'. I think we need some time to recuperate, then I might just have to see what I, I mean we, can do with my other gifts."

"Oh."

Coffees made, they went and sat in the lounge on the settee together, her leaning into him, his arm draped gracefully across her shoulders. Coffees finished and the pair then moved so they were both lying on the settee together, Elle next to the sofa back, lying on her side, Sherlock flat on his back near the seat edge their arms entwined around one another. They drifted to sleep like this for around an hour. Sherlock was the first to stir, Elle was now lying more on him, her own body totally relaxed and calm, so different from the tortured coil that had collapsed in the bedroom some 90 minutes earlier. 

He did not want to disturb her but he needed to visit the bathroom. He shuffled slightly, then rolled her more on her side again, leaning her against the back of the settee. As he stood up though, she opened her eyes. She smiled. "OK?"

"Yes. Just going to the bathroom." When he came back into the lounge Elle was precariously balanced on the arm of his chair. He sat down next to her and she slid onto his knee, him cradling her like a babe in arms. She snuggled into his shoulder, gently kissing his neck. Her lips moved slowly and caressingly towards his ear.

"I love you Sherlock." She smiled. He returned the smile, put his hand into her hair and held her head as his lips pressed unapologetically hard onto hers. Looking into one another's eyes she felt an erotic surge pulse through her. Standing up she opened his robe about to lower herself on to his erect phallus, but he stopped her, turned her, moved her robe to one side and sat her back on his lap. Her mouth dropped open and she groaned loudly as he lowered her, facing away, onto him. She found it difficult to control any movement from her position, and he was faring little better. He grabbed her tightly, holding her arms close to her sides, gradually moving their bodies forwards until both pairs of feet hit the floor. Standing together, she gyrated her body against him. His hands pressed down on her shoulders until they both knelt, she holding the arms of the chair, head hanging down, as he pounded himself within her, rubbing her breasts with his hands, until they both came extremely noisily.

"Wow. That is so damn deep when you take me from behind" Elle defined as she gasped for air. Her whole body shook again. Sherlock stroked her back as she plunged into a second orgasm in this position. "Ooo" she sighed. "Feels wonderful but you have to work so hard as there is nothing easy about this position."

"It should be the easiest, bearing in mind it's how all the other mammals copulate. I guess we can chalk that one up to experience. Perhaps you have to plan for 'doggy style' and just do it, rather than try to move into it."

"I know one thing: it certainly encourages heavier breathing. My throat is so dry. I could do with another drink." Sherlock pulled away from her.

"Do you want another coffee making?"

"No thanks. Would rather finish the Champagne if it's not too warm."

"OK, I'll see you in there." Elle made her way back into the bedroom and removed the ties and handcuffs from the bed to the other side of the room. She heard the shower turned on and off in about 20 seconds whilst she straightened the sheets and duvet. As she sat on the bed, topping up her glass and downing the last of the Champagne, which by then was standing in a bucket of very cold water, Sherlock entered the room in his loosely tied damp robe, towelling his exposed bare chest and neck.

"I think we need some more of this" she said holding up the Champagne bottle. She was going to replenish it but Sherlock took the bottle and ice bucket and did an about turn.

He returned to the bedroom, set down the refreshed ice bucket, took the bottle in a firm grip, which gave out a distinctive 'pop' as the cork released into his hand. He poured Champagne over the strawberries into the glasses, and climbed on top of the bed to join Elle.

"I love you, you do know that don't you? I feel our relationship is much more than just sex now isn't it?"

"I think so, Sherlock, yes."

"Oh, God I am so pleased you came into my life. I have been content to be a brain with a body, its only function the feeding and transport for the former. Now I am a body with a brain, and the body is having as much fun as I ever have with my brain. I no longer get bored and frustrated in the same way when I have not got a case to concentrate on because I can enjoy the distractions of you. Come here." He held out his arm and invited her in to cuddle up. She curled against him, lying under his left shoulder, her left hand caressively stroking his bare chest.

"This is a perfect birthday. Thank you. There is no other way I would have wanted to spend it than making love with you."

"What about on a warm, sunny beach somewhere?"

"Private beach?"

"Possibly. Why?"

"Because if I cannot be making love with you when the mood takes us without someone watching or seeing I would rather be here, where we can do what we want, when we want, and where we want within reason, without concern."

"Me too. Talking of which, when do you think the mood might take you again?"

"Funny you should ask that. I was just thinking how much your body looks as though it needs more touching and kissing. I am planning on being a 'distraction' again. Anything you desire. 'Your wish is my command' as they say. You know the game we played with John and Mary? I want to play it slightly differently. Tell me what you want me to do to you and I will do it. Be my puppeteer."

"All right. Here is a new one. Let me roll over and rub my back. I am still feeling some of the after effects of this morning's delectation in the shower." Sherlock sat up, removed his arms from his robe, then rolled. Elle knelt either side of his calves, undid and removed her own robe, breathed warm air on to her hands, then started to massage Sherlock's shoulders, neck and back. 

As she bent right forward to get force into his shoulders her breasts touched his back and he took a sharp intake of breath. A tingling came all over her body as she realised this was a whole unexplored area of him. She purposefully rubbed her breasts up his back, then her hands down, squeezing his pert bottom cheeks. Placing her tongue on his spine at waist height, she glided it upwards to the nape of his neck, lingering a little longer on the right hand side of his nape where she discovered yet another beautiful mole. His breathing now was slow and expansive.

Returning to her previous starting point she traced the line down to the crevasse at the top of his bottom and licked in circular movements until he began to writhe to her touch. Spreading her hands wide gripping his cheeks she parted them enough to be able to slide her tongue down between them, rimming her tongue around his anal canal. The groan he released was stimulating to both. He was about to roll as Elle took a gentle but firm grip of the lower part of his left bum cheek in her teeth and sucked a real love bite into being; something she was not willing to do on the front of his pristine body, though Sherlock mentioned both John and Greg had spotted the bruising on his clavicle. 

As he rolled over on to his front, she wrapped her mouth around his cock and took him slowly but steadily longer until she deep throated him again. This time she was more confident. She had done it once before with trepidation, this time she was ready to take everything he had. And she got it. He could not help but push although everything in his head said he should not move but the sensation was just too much to be able to resist completely.

Steadily withdrawing her mouth she licked and teased her way back to the tip, joyously nibbling, licking and semi-biting him, caressing the corona with her teeth until...

"Oh, no, no, no. No you don't. Jeepers, Elle. Enough is enough unless you want to take me alone. I thought I was supposed to be giving you instruction!"

"Would you have braved the instruction for that?"

"No. Probably not, but I would have wanted it. Should I ever have a terrible day please tell me there will always be that kind of pleasure waiting for me and I will never face boredom or fear again."

Elle was watching him. He was trying so hard to mentally talk himself down but it was not happening. He was still close. Very close. "Let me take you Sherlock. Let me take you all the way, by hand, by mouth, whichever."

"Go. Anything. Either. Both. Anything." Palpitating between each word, this genius, this brain, this high functioning sociopath, had been struck dumb from the ability to form coherent sentences.

Ever so gently she took each of his balls into her mouth in turn, then licked up his shaft all the way from root to tip. Placing her mouth back over him, she caressed his balls with her hand then slowly started giving him a hand job, picking up speed as she started to feel him begin to fight her and himself. At that fullest of moments she moved away from him letting him release on her breasts. He pushed the back of his head deep into the pillows. His eyes rolled and he looked as though he was trying to say something but the power of speech had now deserted him also. Breathing exceptionally deeply he put his fingers in her hair, grabbed her head and pulled her face to his, kissing her so deeply and strongly, trying to convey what the words would not, their bodies rubbing together, spreading his cum across both of them.

With his heart rate eventually nearing normal he sat up, climbed off the bed, grabbed her hand and pulled her up with him. Nearly frog-marching her into the bathroom, naked, he put the shower on, led her in there, mainly to rinse them both down, but also to caress and kiss her under the stimulating cascade of cooling water. 

Wrapping her then himself in large bath sheets he walked back into the bedroom, his face looking flushed. Returning to the bed, his own scene of crime, he straightened the sheets before he put his head back on his pillow, his hair wet and damp body still in a towel. Elle was still in the bathroom. Just before she returned to the bedroom, Sherlock sent a text message to a friend...


	19. Pleasure explained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of her 'day to remember'

Now was as good a time as any. He was going to ask her a question that had been in the back of his mind since their first love making session in Kew. "Tell me something. Why do you like giving me blow jobs so much?" He leaned his head on his arm, looking towards her on his side, she was on her back facing the ceiling.

"Oh my goodness. That is a question. It is the sensation to me; knowing what it does to you; the personalisation of the act. I hope you like it?"

"Of course. You seem to like it whether I am erect or otherwise. Does it not seem a little bit of a waste of time when I'm flaccid to do it? Surely it's better when I'm already hard?"

"Maybe that's right for some but not me. I love the feeling as your body engorges with blood and becomes erect. If you are already hard, I have missed half the fun."

"Seriously? I imagined it was a pity type thing."

"God, no, on the contrary. When you are soft I can take so much more of you in my mouth and your personal shape is irrelevant. Feeling you go from soft to hard, feeling the blood pulse through you, it is very empowering. Once you are fully erect your body dictates the best position for me to be in when on you because of your natural angle to you, you know, 'which side Sir dresses on' etc. In some ways I prefer it soft. It is just, once you know there is even a possibility of receiving a blow job or once I start you don't tend to stay flaccid very long."

"True! What did you mean by the 'personalisation of the act'?"

"I suppose it is down to the trust you show me allowing me to take such a delicate and vulnerable part of you into my mouth, the original purpose of the latter being biting, chewing and eating raw meat. Think about that."

"I guess, but you would never hurt me by biting me there though, would you?"

"No. Definitely not on purpose but that is why there has to be that level of trust. Anyway, why do you like it?"

"I can feel the blood coursing through my veins in such a way I sense at no other time. During sex there is so much else happening that it is impossible to isolate that type of sensation."

"Do you like watching me do it?"

"Yes but it can defeat the object. When you start I always want you to take your time as, like you, I love the sensation, but when I watch you it gets me heated far quicker and I cannot change any of the chemical and emotional reactions you have caused. It is damn near impossible for me to come down from the heady heights after you have taken me close orally. It intrigued me why it was nicknamed a 'blow' job when it is obviously a sucking action. With you I have discovered the answer: it's my mind you blow. How do you manage sometimes to take me so deeply?"

"Again that is down to trust and me learning, practising with you, how to open my throat muscles, relax, and take you as deep as possible. I have only perfected that today. Thank you for not moving too radically. We will have to learn a technique so you can move properly while I take you like that."

"You do not appear to have a gag reflex."

"I do, I must do, but you have never triggered it. As I have got better at doing what you like, I have learned and trained myself to accept what and how you like it and that has given me chance, I guess, to control that reflex."

"Finally, here's an awkward one. Do you like the taste of me?"

"Not particularly. It is very salty, but again, it is the pleasure of the sensation, and the significance of what must have transpired to cause me to taste it that outweighs the actual taste itself. Also I love to feel you come in my mouth. Have you ever tasted it?"

"God, no. How? I mean, how could I?"

"One time I take you all the way orally I think you ought to - so you know. I will transfer some to you. You said earlier that I ejaculated. Did you taste that?"

"No, it was more to do with sensation again, rather than taste. I did not notice anything beyond what I was already tasting from you, but I felt it against my tongue and mouth. I suppose, for all we know, you could ejaculate like that all the time but during sex it may not have been noticed, with everything else we are doing. I thought that maybe it would be something you would have been aware of?"

"Not at all. As I said I thought it was a myth. Perhaps you ought to ask John if he knows the mechanics of it and, more importantly, the point. I know I don't need it for lubrication as that is sorted elsewhere, unless it stems from the same place. Seems too late for that purpose though as, in normal sex, the lubrication and swelling of female internal surfaces is required at the beginning, not the end. When I was tied up that was the first time I have had such a powerful orgasm like that without you inside me so I am no wiser than you. Maybe it is just a triggered pleasure-fulfilled, no-use-really release."

"Amazing, all the same."

"Do you like the taste of me?"

"Yes. It is not unpleasant or salty. It does not appear to have an obvious flavour, though weirdly metallic, but just has a creamy, slippery consistency, a perfect lubrication as you said. I love having my tongue inside you and like the jolts of your body when I concentrate on your clitoris. That appears to send you wild." 

"It does. It is very sensitive and craves your stimulus. One touch and you can send me into rapture. It also makes the internal part of me want you all the more. I love it when your fingers or tongue concentrate on it, but I lose control very quickly."

"I love to feel you lose control, at my doing Elle. Here." He pulled her up off the bed and the two large towels fell away, abandoned in the middle of the floor. Sherlock led Elle to the wall of the bedroom. Leaning her against it he started kissing her neck, running his hands softly but haphazardly over her. Lifting her arms above her head he held both wrists in his left hand, aping their first shower sexual encounter at Kew on that wonderful, glorious day. Gently fondling her breasts and tummy with his right hand he aligned his erection and then entered her yet again.

For the first time really demonstrating and using his height and superior strength he man-handled her into a position where he could use his legs to push himself further inside her, whilst keeping a steady and passionate pressure on her lips from his. His moves were rhythmical and caressive, though she was in no doubt who was dictating the play. She feigned an attempt to escape his clutches, knowing he would tighten his grip and ultimately press more deeply into her. Clever girl!

He wanted this to be vertical love making, passionate and erotic, but she wanted pain from him and finally received it as his body was so rigid and hard as he straightened his legs her feet momentarily left the ground, his grip on her wrists and his phallus lifting her, suspended in mid-air, pinned against the wall. Nothing else supporting her.

The sensation was brief but too electrifying for her to ignore, and she climaxed swiftly as she realised she could feel the pleasure/pain barrier dissolve, and as her heartbeat raced faster than she had ever known during love making, she cried out loudly as she felt the fullness of him within her. He bent his knees again so her feet found carpet, her body contorted. Using his right arm he lifted her left leg around him, then released her wrists, taking the weight of her right leg as she lifted that over his left hip and he walked back over to the bed, lowering her on to the springs, staying within and on top of her. She ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him over and over again, he now forcibly concluding this latest entanglement horizontally.

Tightening her legs around his thighs she rammed her pelvis against his, squeezing her internal muscles, wringing the seed out of him. Their bodies were both heated and convulsing together as they finally began to release the compounding pressure on one another. Sherlock rolled, too breathless to speak, off of her and sighed.

Closing his eyes with a soft smile on his lips he went into short but dreamless sleep. Elle positioned herself close to him, not touching but leaning on her side just watching him sleep, reliving some of the moments they had shared together today for her birthday.

It had not been her intention to sleep at all but she must have drifted off, waking about forty minutes later to find herself being touched by little soft kisses across her throat, décolleté and breasts. She stirred and stretched. At her movement Sherlock had decided on a more directed strategy. He was on his side, she now on her back. He started kissing her face; her nose, her ears, her eyes, anywhere but her lips. As he passed over her, she tried to capture his lips with hers but he was avoiding them purposefully and now she knew it.

As now she was fully awake from her own stupor, he was willing to move this action on. Across her neck his kisses persisted, travelling gradually down her body. His attention as always lingered around her breasts. He loved the sensation of her soft round skin on his lips or in his mouth. He twirled one of her nipples between his tongue and upper lip, then suckled on her. Momentarily he moved his mouth from her nipple on the inner most part of her left breast, kissed her then sucked hard, holding some of the flesh in his teeth: a love bite returned. Still unobtrusive but less hidden than his which she knew only she would ever see.

He continued his voyage. His tongue fell into her navel then out tracing the scar he had grown to love as it pointed a path to her pubis. Her breathing had become more and more shallow, intensely aware of his intentions, longing for him to reach his final destination. But surprisingly he changed tack.

Suddenly his eyes were level with hers. There was a glint of disappointment on her face until she felt him insert a long middle finger inside her. Now he pressed his lips to hers, now he pressed his advantage. His finger was in constant motion after he slipped it inside her. Circulating, touching her inner walls, then withdrawing and dancing around her clitoris. As his finger re-entered the index joined the middle, doubling her pleasure, his long thumb grazing her clitoris, he moving it fractionally with the deftest of touches. She was moving herself now, adjusting his angle to get his fingers 'just so'. The kisses were becoming more passionate; she took his lower lip between her teeth, then kissed him openly again, pushing her pelvis into the bed. Orgasm beset her. He could feel her muscles compressing his digits as his continual movement exacerbated the proceedings.

Again she found herself craning her neck to kiss him. Sherlock made a decision. He took all his weight on his feet and one arm, and as he bent at the elbow to lower his mouth and his tongue fully into hers he withdrew his fingers, aligned his body and pushed himself inside her. Elle contorted again, this time with pleasure. This was ecstasy. Once again their bodies were one. She felt so receptive and damp to his attentions. What a day! And still over four hours to play. Each session was much shorter now, understandably, but the intensity level was never any less. Another orgasm shared and he slowed off his pace, hanging his head, his weight on his arms, a look of ecstatic fulfilment carved on the face of the woman beneath him.

Sherlock's phone suddenly made a PING sound. She had nearly forgotten the outside world existed today. He picked up the phone and withdrew from both her and the bed. He threw on his robe, wiped his hands on one of the towels and she heard him descend the stairs, talk, laugh, then return slightly slower. "Dinner's arrived" he called. She moved something to her side of the bed, pulled on her robe and joined him in the kitchen where she saw two thermal-lined bags she knew did not live there. A container of crab, spinach and tomato linguini was lifted out of one. "Your final birthday gifts, from Angelo" he explained.

"Wonderful. Oh, how lovely. Gosh Sherlock, I had not realised how hungry I was becoming. How and when?" She sat down at the table.

"I planned for something from Angelo. He said anything, it would be delivered, just let him know when we were ready. I texted him just after we rinsed down earlier, giving him the hour and a half's notice he requested before we wanted it, so he could make it personally. Angelo even dropped it to the door. No idea what is in the other bag. 'A dessert' was his only clue. It is chilled anyway." 

Whilst talking he had dried a couple of bowls, which she realised must have been sitting in boiling water in the sink, so slightly warmed, and dished up the pasta, getting two forks and spoons and setting it down on the table. "Would you like some wine?" he asked, pouring a glass of white.

"No thank you." Elle rose, went to the fridge and poured chilled bottled water into the second wine glass on the table. She kissed the top of Sherlock's head as she walked passed him around the table to sit and eat. "Perfect." The pair clinked glasses and ate. The bowls were returned to the sink around twenty minutes later, totally cleared. Elle opened the other bag and withdrew two glass ramekins containing chocolate hazelnut mousses, doused in Frangelico hazelnut liqueur, and a deep red rose. "Ah, bless him." 

She took the rose and squeezed it into the beautiful flower arrangement received from Mycroft, which had been moved to one end of the table, so it's stem reached the water. The mousse was divine: strong in both chocolate and hazelnut flavours and just enough to finish the meal.

"Lovely" Sherlock said, expressing the sentiments of them both as he drained his glass, Elle nodding in agreement. "Right. Seconds out, round... whatever we are on." He smiled. "Any idea?"

"Yes" she responded quickly. He was expecting her to say how many sexual assignations they had had throughout the day but as her eyes dilated she said "Take me Sherlock, make love to me here, on the kitchen table." 

Pots, glasses and the bouquet were moved quickly to the draining board as Sherlock helped Elle climb on the table, then entered her immediately. This was raw, tempestuous, brutish even. Perhaps it felt dirty to Sherlock, knowing he would never look at the table or kitchen in quite the same way again, but he was so pumped, and vocal, enjoying the illicitness of such a sexual experience in such a mundane day-to-day place. Orgasm intensity easily equalled any that had gone before between them during the day's extraordinary events, but the pleasure was short-lived. Practicalities and position meant they could not stay together long after reaching the zenith of stimulation yet again.

Sherlock helped Elle off the table and led her by the hand, taking her back into the bedroom, via the bathroom for a quick teeth brushing and cooling splash of water to their faces. Time was running out on this wondrous day. In two and a half hours it would be May, and Elle would have 364 days to wait for her birthday again. The lovers cuddled up to one another. "What a beautiful meal. Thank you Sherlock."

"Don't thank me, we need to thank Angelo. I planted the idea with him but he came up with the menu and, of course, refused to let me pay him for any of it."

"Then I will pay him with a kiss at least, next time we go in. We will need to go soon to return the thermal bags and ramekins. I loved the third course. I don't think I need to thank Angelo for that." For the longest time the lovers talked, just touching or stroking one another, delicately, non-sexually, instinctively. Just over an hour later Elle's eyes closed as she snuggled into his neck and whispered "Feel ready and willing to take this day home?"

"Willing, yes, of course. Ready? I am not so sure about." Sherlock's facial expression was half apologetic though his eyes were wide and responsive, mouth smiling.

"In that case I may have just what you need." She reached over the side of the bed, lifted her hand and, spinning around her index finger slowly was one of the cock rings. Sherlock laughed unconvincingly, but his eyes had dilated again, his brow furrowed with intrigue. Smiling, raising her left eyebrow at him, Elle put the cock ring between her teeth and headed back down the bed, taking him into her mouth and sliding the ring to the root of his shaft. As she lifted her head slightly to concentrate her tongue around his rim, foreskin and head, sucking hard, Sherlock heard a low buzzing sound and gasped loudly as the new vibrator touched his skin, just above the synthetic ring.

His body contracted so violently he folded away from her, grabbed her wrist, pulled her up the bed and planted his mouth on hers. A long salubrious kiss later and he extracted the vibrator from her hand. His lips separated from hers and he said to her very slowly. "OK Elle. Tell me exactly what you want me to do with this."

"Here, let me show you." Taking his hand she steered him to her labia, stroking the folds before placing the very tip of the vibrator against her clitoris. Her body spasmed too, but whereas it seemed too intense for him and he had revolted away, she involuntarily moved and adjusted her position until the placement was pin-point accurate. Sighing and moaning, manoeuvring her body for the ultimate pleasure, she succumbed very quickly to this direct stimulation and an undeniably powerful orgasm. She was now fidgeting her frame to try to get further stimulation by him with the vibrator, but he refused to comply.

He put his feet between hers, pushed her legs apart and knelt over her. Turning the vibrator off and dropping it to the floor, he kissed her again and put himself back inside her. The kiss released and they looked at each other both smiling as they simultaneously felt the cock ring between them. "Ooo" she sighed. "I love that."

Gentle and erotic movements saw the lovers gorging themselves once again together, their pleasures of each other fulfilled. As their temperatures rose, muscles tensed, and his climax coincided with her third, they wrenched their loins with an instance that was both sensual and resolute. Sherlock had wanted to give her a full day of love making and that was precisely what they had: as he turned off the bedside lamp the last thing he noticed, the time of 00:18 on his mobile phone as he fell asleep, still within her.


	20. May... The force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions on two sides

It had happened once before. They had fallen asleep immediately after sex for one of them to wake to find they were still latched together. Now it had happened again, perhaps the still worn cock ring giving his form substance, but as Sherlock woke a tingling sensation made him realise he was still inside his sleeping lady. She stirred ever so slightly beneath him, stimulating him again totally unconsciously to the point of erection. He was about to pull away when a tiny voice whispered "Stay".

"Oh, baby" he exclaimed, capturing her lips with his own, pushing himself once again deeper within her. He was becoming quite concerned they were getting obsessive about the sex they were having, the amount of it at least, but now he was there again nothing else seemed to matter.

She opened her still bleary eyes and said "Shower". He got the gist of her meaning and rolled so he was under her, then pushed them both into standing, her wrapping her arms and legs around him he carried her to the bathroom, still attached, turned on the shower and trapped her against the wall as they finished this latest frenetic dance. As their bodies naturally separated and the shampoo and shower gel ran down their physiques the cock ring descended to the shower tray in a sea of bubbles.

"If you want to get through to morning without company, make sure I don't sleep in that thing again. After the day we had I wouldn't have expected you to want me anywhere near you. I can't quite believe what we did yesterday. I'm still so tired."

"I was pleased you carried me in here. I am not convinced I can walk or will sit down properly for a week! Wow. What a birthday. We will have to plan something similar for yours. That was more than a marathon! God, you were amazing!" They laughed and kissed together whilst conditioner was finally rinsed away. 

Sherlock left the shower, slung a towel around his hips, then held one out for Elle as she turned off the shower and picked up the cock ring, which she dried before wrapping her towel under her arms. A couple of smaller towels for their hair and they made their way back into the bedroom to dry and dress, Elle stowing all her new toys in a lockable bedside drawer.

Breakfast was just coffee and toast as whilst dressing Sherlock had got a call from Greg Lestrade to say his services would be really useful today, if he was available. The consulting detective texted back in the affirmative and left his Baker Street home after kissing his lady friend goodbye.

Elle was in a quandary about what to do with her day when she received a phone call from Em (and Kaye) to ask if she wanted to meet them in Harrods' Tea Room for an afternoon tea. She agreed but suggested lunch as an alternative plan, not knowing how late back Sherlock was likely to be. Two girls on the District Line from Kew Gardens to South Kensington, Elle on the Circle Line, also to South Kensington, then a gentle walk through the sunny London streets together to Harrods - Elle needing some fresh air to clear away the cobwebs. Finally there seemed to be true warmth in the air, and the streets of the Capital sprawled at their feet for discovery.

Upon meeting, Elle thanked her friends for their kind gifts and cards. They asked about what else she had received from others and she told them about the chocolate biscuits, negligee, bedding and bouquet, but failed to mention the handcuffs or cords from John and Mary. She also thanked them with a little flush for their more 'exciting' presents. When the girls expressed that they were 'a funny', bought obviously before they knew who 'S' was and not to worry if neither was ever used, she indelicately informed them they were too late, on both accounts. A lot of silly girly giggling ensued.

Lunch was beautiful. The environment was opulent and sedate. Although both her friends went for a glass of wine with their lunch, Elle had an icy Dandelion and Burdock to refresh her, having been on Champagne nearly all the previous day (and surprised not to have any hangover - must have boiled off all the alcohol!). Em asked what 'S' had given her for her birthday and if he had taken her out. Elle showed her friends her new bracelet and explained she and 'S' had stayed at Baker Street, having a quiet lunch and a wonderful Italian meal for dinner. Asked what they did all day totally innocently by Kaye, Elle felt her face burn with a flush she could not disguise and the two friends read from that what they wanted. Their greatest imagination would not come close to reality Elle considered.

"You stayed in all day, having sex?" Kaye quizzed quietly.

"Not all day, most of it. Damn, there, I have said it. Don't let on I told you."

"Oh my God, Elle. Was it good?"

"Fantastic" she replied with a sigh and a slight moan, her eyes rising to the heavens. "He is phenomenal."

"I am surprised you suggested a walk today" whispered Em, looking slightly sheepish.

"I surprised myself I could walk" Elle laughed looking equally sheepish and glad they were in a dark secluded corner of this stunning tea room.

"So he tried one of the cock rings then?"

"Oh yes. That thing is amazing. We tried one late last night. Oh, and this morning."

"Again this morning?"

"Well, he fell asleep in it last night and was good to go again." She refrained from saying he had slept within her.

"Just how many times did you have sex yesterday?" Em queried in a muted tone.

"No idea. It never occurred to me to start counting but it was a lot. We just had a really physical and unbelievable day."

"Gosh. All over the apartment?"

"No, just a few chosen places."

"Bedroom, for sure", said Kaye. Elle closed her eyes and tried, failing desperately, to look passive.

"Bedroom mainly." She hoped her openness and honesty would close the subject.

"Bathroom of course, or should I say shower?" Em responded. Elle again tried not to give anything away, but her friends were continuing to dig and reading her like a book.

"Where else I wonder? I know, the lounge? Yes, there was a glint there. The settee?" Em smiled at her own skills. "Yes. Your Sherlock would be proud of me and my powers of deduction."

"It was actually his chair" Elle clarified, feeling they were not going to let this drop. 'Your Sherlock' - Em's words lingered in her head.

"Any more do you think Em? Look at her face. Yes! Look, there is a guilty pleasure still hidden." 

Elle closed her eyes but could not keep that knowing look or ridiculously childish grin off her face. "Damn you, damn you both, leave me alone." The other two laughed menacingly.

"Just tell us then Elle. The pain will be over much quicker."

"Or we will just keep digging and asking until your eyes tell on you. You know they will."

"OK. But you must never say anything. You are supposed to be my friends - my best friends! You're not supposed to hound me like this!" Elle retorted in a shouted whisper.

"Hallway?" spouted Kaye.

"Walls are too sharp. Stairs though maybe?" replied Em. They were going to get it out of Elle one way or another.

"OK, ok. It was the kitchen, all right?"

"Leaning against where?" asked Kaye indiscreetly.

Again Elle closed her eyes. "Shit. It was on the sodding table if you must know!"

"Wow. Sounds like you really had an amazing day." Elle just blinked slowly, sighing, remembering, and smiled.

Meanwhile across town after analysing and deducing the latest unspotted and case-solving definitive facts of an east London murder Sherlock found himself alone with John and Greg.

"Greg, I have been asked to thank you for the kind box of chocolate biscuits on Elle's behalf. We did not eat any yesterday, but I am sure we will get round to them sooner rather than later. And thanks John for all the presents from you and Mary, also very much appreciated."

"Did she try any of them on?" asked John raising an unsubtle eyebrow at Sherlock, being careful what he said in front of the DI.

"She tried them all on, eventually. The negligee was stunning. Wow. The others fitted well too" he tried to say without smirking or thinking back too much to the day before. As Sherlock walked across the room he unconsciously stretched and rubbed his back.

It was the DI who asked "Have you injured yourself Sherlock?"

"I think I pulled something in my back yesterday morning, in the shower. It still feels tender."

"Did you go out for the day?"

"No, we stayed at Baker Street." One of the Met's men called Greg away to overview something about the case, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

"Oh shit, Sherlock. Did you spend all day in bed?"

"No. I just said I pulled a muscle in the shower. But I will tell you this John: we never dressed! And some of that was thanks to you. Handcuffs? Rope? The negligee is stunning. You must have known we would put it all to good use the way we did. I am guessing that was the idea?"

"Yes, but not necessarily all yesterday. You could have saved something for later in the week at least" the doc said sarcastically. "I know what you mean about the negligee though, Mary has one as well, though we bought her a different colour."

"Why not? It was an amazing day, incorporating some of Elle's birthday presents into the proceedings. It was truly remarkable. I have never felt so stimulated and alive as I did yesterday. What an unbelievable woman."

"You spent the whole day having sex, didn't you?"

"Well, not all the day. There were some breaks, even a couple of meals and a few siestas, in between. Oh John, it was absolutely fantastic. Tell me, Elle asked me to ask you, do you know the purpose of or physical explanation for female ejaculation?"

"Jesus, Sherlock." Sherlock laughed loudly at his friend's reaction.

"Well what did any of you expect when she received ropes, handcuffs, cock rings and a vibrator as presents?"

"Seriously? Who were the cock rings and vibrator from?"

"Elle's house mates. Be brave, my friend, and get a cock ring - amazing, absolutely amazing. I fell asleep in one last night and woke up ready to go again this morning. And that was after the day we had." He also refrained from saying exactly where he slept.

"Did you throw your back screwing in bed then?"

"No, as I said, that happened in the morning shower. She orgasmed so brutally my legs gave way and I twisted awkwardly." Sherlock grinned widely again as John's eyes rolled. "I'm only a little stiff. It will wear off."

"Sounds like you were a little stiff all bloody day!"

"Hah!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next five chapters as promised. Sorry for the long break. Wifi malfunction!   
> Over half way through... I hope you enjoy. Review if you do.


	21. Family history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travel plans are made and a mutual pact agreed

Just after 4pm Elle let herself into Baker Street. Her friends wondered whether she would return home with them but she said she had a potentially better offer staying in Central London, and they did not deserve her company after taunting her all afternoon.

After taking off her coat she put the oven on high, then went into the bedroom, where she removed her make-up, refreshed then moisturised her skin, then changed into jogging pants and micro-fleece. Back in the kitchen, glancing at the innocent-looking table and the astonishing bouquet upon it, she pricked a couple of large potatoes and put them in the pre-heated oven on a wire shelf, having put a baking sheet lower down and coating the potatoes in an oil and salt solution. Setting an alarm for an hour, she left them to cook, returning to the bedroom to brush her hair then tie it up into a ponytail. Salad leaves were then washed and dried, tomatoes and cucumber washed but not sliced, a tin of tuna opened, drained, mashed with a little light mayonnaise then refrigerated. Everything was waiting now on the potatoes and the other's arrival home.

Fifty minutes later Elle received a text. 

S: On way home. Should I pick up something? SH

L: No. Dinner nearly ready, just waiting on you. LJ x

S: Home in 10 min.

Elle added plates to the oven to warm and turned down the heat, checked the potatoes, now cooked and crisping nicely. Looking at the table, smiling to herself, remembering their exploits, she admired the bouquet. She picked up her mobile again, this text was to the other Holmes brother.

L: Thank you so much for my beautiful bouquet. How very kind. I look forward to perhaps getting to know the real you over Spring Bank Holiday at your parents. LJ

Nearly instantly she received a response.

MH: My pleasure L. Glad you liked it. I look forward to meeting you properly too. I hope you had a good birthday and my brother is well. MH

A few minutes' later a door slam, some feet bounding upstairs and a tired but smiling brother to the other had arrived home. "Ummm, nice smell. Jacket potatoes?"

"Yes. I hope that is ok?" Sherlock put his arms around her and kissed her. "At least you are not too late."

"Lovely. I will go and wash and change." Elle got the tuna out the 'fridge, chopped the washed cucumber and tomatoes and dressed the salad with a thick reduction of balsamic vinegar. A small glass of white wine was poured for each of them. She had just taken the potatoes out of the oven with a piece of kitchen towel when Sherlock joined her at the table. They ate and talked about their separate days in turn, Sherlock thinking of something as he regaled some details to Elle, suddenly dashing to his phone and sending a text. "I knew something was plaguing me. I am so pleased to have you to talk things through with, sometimes it helps me see the final pieces fall into place."

Once eaten, and with a hot mug of coffee each taken through to the lounge, Elle and Sherlock sat in soft light and quiet, with them alternatively having their arms around one another whilst relaxing. Sherlock got up to go to the bathroom and grabbed his back as he stood upright.

"Come into the bedroom when you have done" Elle said as she followed Sherlock through the kitchen, but she passed the bathroom. He came in and she suggested top off and lie on his front. He felt four or five cold splashes on his back. Then Elle's weight straddled across his thighs, as she started to massage him in earnest. The cool drips were some form of oil, scented with eucalyptus. She massaged all his back from his hip bones up to the nape of his neck then, when most of the oil had been rubbed in elsewhere, onto his scalp. He groaned - trust the cranium to be an erogenous zone for a guy like him! Amazed at how much tension she was releasing her strokes were gentle at first but later she turned up the pressure and was kneading him with all her strength, especially around the shoulders and down his back.

"That" Sherlock said "feels so much better. Thanks Elle."

"Do you want another coffee?" Elle asked as she climbed off him as he rolled over on to his back.

"No, I want an early night." His eyes flashed, grabbing her hand to pull her back to the bed.

"You will undo all the good work I have just done."

"I don't care. I thought you were enabling me. You could always give me another massage. [His eyebrows rose quickly twice and he beamed.] What was the oil?"

"Just a natural eucalyptus massage lubricant. It warms the skin homoeopathically as well as works as a slippage barrier to prevent skin pulling, etc."

"It smells so good. I can feel my skin tingling. It feels like one of those heat treatment pads, but not as strong, and obviously less targeted."

"I'm glad it's doing the trick. Relax there and unwind a while. Here." She held out his sweatshirt towards him.

"I don't want to relax and dress now. I want to make love to you." Half a tantrum? she thought.

"Put your sweatshirt on and let it work for a bit of time on your muscles at least or you will rub it all off on me or the bed and not feel the benefits. I need to wash my hands. I would hate to transfer this anywhere sensitive."

"OK. [He sounded honestly disappointed.] I received a text from my mother this evening as I was in the cab, saying she is looking forward to meeting you over Spring Bank Holiday. I know we said we were going but what has happened?" He reluctantly pulled on the sweatshirt.

"Oh. I texted Mycroft to thank him for the flowers and said I looked forward to meeting the real, not official, him when we see him at your parents. You said you were going to confirm with your mother."

"Sorry, I forgot. I will ring now. It was very kind of you to text Mycroft to thank him, after your first encounter. He is probably trying to make amends."

"It was very kind and sweet of him to send the bouquet in the first place. I had not expected anything and it is rather spectacular."

Sherlock was true to his word. He phoned his parents immediately, actually speaking to his father as his mother was in the bath.

"Hi Dad... Very well thank you. You?... Yes, I am ringing to confirm both Elle and I will be coming over for the long Spring Bank Holiday weekend as was the original plan Mum and I put together a few weeks' ago... No Dad. We are not teenagers and we are lovers. My bedroom for the pair of us will be fine... I know this has not come up before but I have not been in love before either... Yes, Dad, I said love... [He glanced in Elle's direction] For her pains, she does. Goodness knows why... Mrs Hudson and the Watsons all like her very much, she and Mycroft have not got off on the best of terms but I think that is improving so I cannot see any reason why you and Mum will not like her equally... Thanks Dad. I will be in touch prior to Spring Bank if not before... OK. Love to you and Mum. Bye."

"That all sounded sweet. I am really looking forward to meeting your parents. Just my luck, a third Mr Holmes to meet, and his wife of course. It will give me an idea of what you may look like in a few years!"

"I should not get your hopes too high, bearing in mind what their only two sons have turned out like. I am closer to 40 than 30 and yet they still treat me like a teenager, especially as they see this as the first serious relationship I have had, excluding my friendship with John of course. He came to stay one Christmas... you know... [he avoided saying before he died] before he met Mary. He did stay in the spare bedroom though." Sherlock grinned at her.

"Where do your parents live?"

"They live in a country cottage in a hamlet outside Winchester, in Hampshire. Not too far away. It is just a pain to get to and from without a car."

"I have access to a car. The girls and I all share part ownership in a hybrid Toyota - no congestion charge etc, can actually exist within the M25 without paying through the nose for the privilege. It is a nippy thing and I am pretty sure I can get it, then we can stop overnight at mine and go from there. It will make it a short journey, even if the traffic is terrible."

"That would be great. Could you arrange that then? It would save time not having to use public transport."

"I will send a text now to the girls." Elle walked into the lounge, grabbed her phone, sat on the settee and sent one text to both Em and Kaye as Sherlock sat down beside her, his arm loosely furled across her back.

L: Hi girls. Am I ok to have car for Spring Bank hol week? Want to go into country with S. Cheers Lxx

It was Emma that responded.

M: No probs L. OK with K too. Four staying here. When will u collect?

L: S and I will prob stay overnight Thurs, then go from Q Fri some time. Will hopefully give all boys chance to meet. 

M: Are we ok now to tell B and T about S - more specifics - before then, so they know what/who to expect?

"Sherlock, looks like we can have the car. The girls and their guys are all staying at Kew over that long weekend. Em has asked if she and Kaye can tell Ben and Tony a bit more about you? They are really nice guys, and am sure very discreet, and I think Em feels they ought to know who to expect if they are going to meet you anyway...?"

"Yes, of course. Just make sure they are careful, like I explained to Em and Kaye when I met them."

L: Go ahead, just repeat what S said 2 u re details via text or loose tongues potentially endangering any of u. See u then if not before.

M: OK. Will do. Will wait until B and T are both here this weekend then tell them about S. Speak soon. Love to you both. Mx

"Thanks for that. It will not be quite such a shock to them when you walk through the door. The girls are looking forward to meeting you properly too, out of your environment. I am not sure they know what to make of you, or me for that matter, it has been so long since I was involved with anyone other than the odd 'cup of coffee date'."

"What is a 'cup of coffee date'?"

"When you meet someone and go out with them only once, just about surviving the ordeal to the cup of coffee at the end of dinner. That is why I took myself out of the market for so long after my last long-term relationship ended. I was being approached and picked up by incredibly unsuitable men, most of whom probably thought a forty-something would be a guaranteed easy lay."

"Were you four years without a lover before you met me then?"

"Yes. I thought I had told you. Kris and I had been together for nearly three years when it all came to an abrupt end. We had seen each other around at work, building our relationship on trust and friendship. My job role changed so I moved away from the place and he and I decided to 'give it a go' having a serious love life. Until then we had just become really good friends. We even dated occasionally when parties or gatherings came up if neither of us had a significant other to go with. We had known each other over two years before we slept together. It was a true friendship, then it changed."

Elle sighed. "Looking back, under different circumstances I don't think it would have been the long-term dream either of us had at the time, but we were both out of place, family-wise - you know, neither of our families were from the London area where we met. We enjoyed being together, all our mutual friends were saying it was going to be the match of the century."

"Where did he work?" 

"He was one of my colleagues when I was working part-time temping for the Met as I mentioned to you. I used to see him sporadically when he used that particular office as his hot shoe when doing his 'red tape stuff' as he called it. We worked very separately - I was administrative support to the forensics and pathology department, and he was an armed officer - some special squad or other. We just kept crossing paths, and both finished up doing some investigating of our own, about each other."

"Who called time in the relationship?"

"Neither of us. Kris was seconded to a police force in the US. That was when Em and I first lived together. Kris introduced us. He knew Em was looking for lodgings in Greater London, and I was looking to buy as I was paying extortionate rates for rent. I liked the Kew area because of the Underground. Kris didn't officially live with me, he stayed regularly like Ben does with Emma, most weekends, etc. Kris was one of the UK's best armed officers and went to America to get some advanced certification to his sniper credentials. As part of the invitational specialist scheme he was encouraged to join the force in San Francisco, where he was training. He was killed during a siege two months short of finishing his year's secondment out there."

"God, Elle. I am so sorry."

"Now you know why I get a little anxious when you, John, and Greg for that matter, are off on some of these strange assignments. I have known the extremities of being close with the police."

"I guess you could have made life easier for yourself by not getting involved with someone who works alongside the police again."

"I know, but you can't choose who you fall in love with, and I am in love with you. I was fascinated by you from the moment we met, hence the delay tactics, but it never occurred to me you would reciprocate. That was why I was so surprised by your first kiss. When did you realise you wanted me to be more than a friend?"

"In Kew Gardens, when you took the flask and grapes out of your bag. Silly I know. We seemed to think so similarly. That was why I asked about seeing your bedroom so soon after entering your home. I suddenly wanted you. I felt a desire like I had never done before and needed to know... needed to know whether I could love you, physically I mean, or not. Did you not realise then that I was interested in you?"

"No. Not in that way. I guess I was so busy admiring the detective I did not see the man in front of me."

"Do you see him now?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, that man wants to make love to you. Come with me." 

Sherlock stretched out his hand, helped her up from the settee and led her towards the bedroom. No detour to clean teeth or anything Sherlock shut the door behind them. He turned Elle to face him and peeled off her micro-fleece and unclipped her bra, so confidently now. As ever he was distracted at this point, kissing and stroking her breasts, rubbing his face against them and sucking on one nipple, then the other.

Elle lifted Sherlock's sweatshirt off again finally and threw it to join her clothes on a chair. They indulged in a half-naked embrace, just enjoying the pleasures of feeling the torso of the other against them. Sherlock unwrapped himself from Elle's arms and walked around her, lifting her soft curls away from her skin so he could kiss the back of her neck and shoulders. By the time he turned her around, face on, she had plaited her hair slightly to the right, but had not had chance to put a band in it. They stared, dilated eyes into dilated eyes, dropped their own trousers and underwear to the floor, stepping out of them and removing socks at the same time.

Again leading her by the hand Sherlock took Elle to the bed, but he did not lie down. He sat on the edge of the open bed and pulled her towards him, getting her to stand either side of his legs, and lowered her on to him. Her head immediately dropped forwards in the ecstasy of the man within her. He was holding her hips, moving himself within her, she holding his head and neck into her breasts. Her head rose and she searched desperately for his lips, kissing him deeply, reacting to his movements, then hitting orgasm so quickly she accidentally bit his lower lip, causing a tiny speck of blood to bubble up. Her eyes looked into his apologetically, then she could not resist licking and tasting this different fluid from his body. She shuddered uncontrollably.

He was getting close himself now. His actions were getting less restrained and more forceful, holding her shoulders down so she was accepting everything he was giving her. Without warning he bellowed loudly his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. He was losing control. Elle pushed him backwards so he was lying prone on the bed and she knelt over him, taking him beyond the point of no return. Squeezing her thighs tightly around him she joined the moment of their total togetherness.

As breathing finally became easier Elle said "God that was good! We will have to remember that one."

"You're damn right we will. Oh shit. [He sighed deeply.] Elle, I don't think I am done. Want to take this one home with me?"

"What? You bet!" Putting his hands on her backside he executed a careful but quite vigorous roll, so he was now over her. "I am all yours!" She planted her feet.

"Good, in that case I want a leg." He prised her right leg off his left thigh and using his arm as a ramp, lifting and adjusting, he got his wish, her leg on his shoulder, enabling him to kiss it whilst he orgasmed a second time, her with him yet again.

Rolling so they were now both on their sides Elle asked "Just what voodoo magic are you working Sherlock? Not many guys can go twice like that."

He was still searching for air, gasping. It was pretty obvious he had blown his own mind. All he could do was shake his head. She pulled herself off him, grabbed two robes, threw one to the bed, put the other on then heaved him up on his feet, helped him on with his robe, then led him by hand to the bathroom. Sherlock went straight into the shower, again angling it not to wet his hair. Elle grabbed her clip and fastened her plait out the way, brushed her teeth and waited until Sherlock had left the cubicle before skinny-dipping herself. He cleaned his teeth and they returned to the bedroom together, drying off.

Two robes discarded they climbed into bed this time, cuddling up to one another. He moved and turned off the light as Elle took her turn to ask him a delicate question. 

"Sherlock? ["Hmm?"] You know men sometimes have 'wet dreams' as they are called? ["umm?"] If I wake and you're having one, unconsciously I mean, may I have permission to take you to wake you?"

"You mean I would wake up already having sex with you?"

"One way or another, yes."

"Yes, be my guest. Wow, what a way to be woken. Beats the hell out of any alarm clock. Only problem is with such a promising prospect I am not sure I will ever sleep again."

"I think you will. Good night." She stretched upwards to kiss him. He smarted slightly. "Sorry about the lip. Not safe to have anything in my mouth when I orgasm." She grinned devilishly though it was dark.

"I thought giving oral took you nearly always to orgasm?"

"It does. Oh, ok, maybe not 'anything'." She blurted an uncontrolled giggle.

"Am I safe or not?"

Her voice softened to a delicate, evocative whisper. "I don't think you are ever safe with me around Sherlock. I only have to look at you and I want to eat you alive." 

"I give permission for you to take me whenever you want me. No further consent than this conversation required from here. But... there is a rider..."

"Which is?" Elle thought she had guessed what it might be, and was right.

"I want the same consent with you."

"You have my consent. You can have me whenever you want me."

"Why did my blood turn you on? You seemed to buzz, even though initially you seemed distressed about hurting me."

"It was a taste of you I had not had the chance to enjoy before." Oh dear. She could not help herself. For only what was maybe the third time in her life she actually felt her eyes dilate. Just what message was she sending him? Her tummy contracted. She was close to orgasm again without him even touching her. She closed her eyes and tried to picture scenes of nature but snow-capped mountains, caves, geysers all seemed to rush to her mind and all had some sort of sexual connotation in her currently hormone-driven thoughts. The more she tried to think of anything but sex or Sherlock the worse it seemed to become. "Bloody uncontrollable libido" she whispered.

Sherlock understood. He knew exactly what was going on and what - at this moment - he could not do about it. Pushing the heel of his right hand on her pubic bone he slid his middle and index fingers inside her, his thumb stroking her clitoris. She was already only seconds away and contracted viciously around his digits. He pressed a kiss directly on her mouth, sucking her lower lip between both his own. Her left hand gripped his right as she made sure of its angle and took herself all the way using his. As she opened her eyes she could see in the dim light from the street outside him smiling at her. A stretched arm over the bed and a tissue reached and used and all was calm in the bedroom again. Back with her head near his heart, noting his heart rate had increased, she snuggled down for the night. "Sorry" she whispered.


	22. May bank holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Propositioned, pinned and playing with friends - alone, together

The singing of birds was enough to let them know they had gone well past dawn without the desire or need to molest the other whilst sleeping after their newly agreed pact. One thing that was surprising had not woken them was the British weather. Yet again It was absolutely pelting it down. Sunshine and showers, and it was no longer even April. There seemed to be thunder in the air as well, as low rumbles could be heard, obviously some distance away.

The Friday was a quiet day. Thankfully it seemed that the Met had either sussed things themselves or found themselves in a hiatus in all the recent activity as Sherlock received a text to say nothing of interest to him was happening. Greg Lestrade had been informed by Sherlock he would be spending the long weekend with the Watsons at their home so would not be available unless for something very particular. Whereas Greg used to feel guilty if he had no case to tickle the brain cells of his genius friend, now the latter was in a physical relationship he felt more guilty when he did disturb him and required his assistance.

After a light breakfast of fruit juice, coffee and toast Elle and Sherlock made ready to go over to the Watsons, preparing their overnight bags with everything they would need for three nights' stay at friends. 

Later they went for a damp walk into the heart of the capital, well wrapped from inclement weather and suspicious eyes. They visited Angelo's to return his insulated bags and ramekins, Elle kissed Angelo on the cheek to thank him for the wonderful meal and the rose on her birthday. Angelo's words of "any time for my favourite couple" were duly acknowledged and a promise made of them or them and the Watsons visiting soon. 

They wandered generally, finally making it to Trafalgar Square, through Admiralty Arch, up The Mall and to the front of Buckingham Palace. Sherlock recounted a strange case when he was man-handled into a car wrapped solely in a sheet and taken there to meet his brother, who had fetched him and John in on a situation of potential royal blackmail. Eventually Sherlock proved that was not so on that occasion.

"Why were you wrapped only in a sheet?"

"The job was for Mycroft again, so I cannot divulge too much detail. I was in a mood and determined not to jump through hoops for him so I said I was not going to help. Unfortunately two bodyguards raided my bedroom for my clothes and took them, my sheet and me in it in the back of a large limousine to the Palace. Poor John. He was attending what appeared to be a mysterious murder which I solved via the Internet in a few moments and was, in fact, an accident, and was helicoptered from the incident site to the Palace, only to find me, wrapped in my sheet in one of the Queen's drawing rooms. It was a strange case, involving a dominatrix, who was believed to be the blackmailer, and my arch enemy, Moriarty."

"This Moriarty guy. You said he is dead, didn't you?"

"Yes. We believe he is now, but people have come back from beyond the grave. Look at me."

"But did you not see him commit suicide?"

"I know what I thought I saw, but that is not necessarily right as John thought he saw me commit suicide moments later."

Standing outside the seat of the Commonwealth monarchy this seemed a very surreal conversation to be having. Sherlock blessed the bad weather. Everyone was wrapped up, under umbrellas or dashing as quick as possible, so it was very unlikely, even in such a public place, he would be spotted and recognised. They walked into Green Park, meandered through to the far side then Sherlock, with his A-Z detailed knowledge of the London city scape, directed them back to the top end of Baker Street where 221B was located, avoiding all high footfall areas.

Nice to have had a breath of fresh air, but they were all wet again, and cold from the swirling wind.

"I wonder what it is like standing about in all that ceremonial garb in hideous weather like this?" Elle had queried rhetorically, not expecting any explanation. They walked quickly, arms around each other.

"No idea, but I do know those bearskins are heavy dry, never mind wet."

"God, it's May and still so bloody cold!"

"Care to warm up in a nice hot bath when we get in?"

"No, but a nice hot shower would be good."

"Am I ok to join you?"

"Of course, I would not want to waste water and shower alone." Sherlock laughed.

"If you are only planning on getting clean" he said, "you had better count me out."

"I think we can afford to get dirty first, then get clean. How does that sound?"

"It sounds about perfect to me. How desperate are you for your shower?"

"Well, I don't know about you but I think I probably need to go now. I am feeling particularly dirty at this minute, and am only going to get dirtier the longer it is put off."

"Just you wait for me. I don't want you to get dirty on your own. I want to make sure I am as dirty as you, at least." Their eyes locked. "I think we had better head straight into the bathroom don't you?"

"I think that is a good idea." They entered the apartment, their outer coats and hats peeled off as they went in through the flat door, there was no step change as the other layers streamed off too. Most of them were kept hold of and taken to the bedroom, but an odd garment or two would need to be collected later.

Silly talking. They both knew what they were talking about in earnest, but the fact was they had turned each other on to the point where his heart beat was more than double his relaxed rate would be, and she was trying to visualise different animal species for each letter of the alphabet, just to try to slow down her own pleasure process.

The shower was on and the temperature up high. Elle stepped in first, soaking all her hair and body. Sherlock joined her moments later and she ran her fingers through his hair as he became wetter, kissing him directly under the water's flow.

Breaking from the kiss Elle looked at the beautiful body standing in front of her. She automatically licked her lips upon her eyes finding his erection but catching Sherlock's eye, he shook his head. She raised a finger to his lips. "Slowly" she purred. "Slowly."

Not leaning her against the wall, all four feet still on the ground, this was going to be love making at its heart, not just sex. Their arms and lips were already entwined. Elle slid one foot up and down Sherlock's calf. He moaned softly into her mouth. Her right hand traversed down his left side, slipped between them, took hold of his cock and guided him to her and her to him, not opening her eyes, not releasing his lips.

Sherlock's head rolled and he let out a long earthy moan. He took control again, lifted his head and found her eyes with his, though his focus was definitely in question. His hands caressed her from their position on her shoulder blade and near her waist so each hand was holding a bottom cheek. He bent his knees very slightly, then straightened them again. This time it was Elle who released a long, pleasured moan from her lips and her eyes now lost focus. Their lips reattached themselves to each other, her hands were now high on him, her right in his hair, the left stroking his right shoulder and going up his neck, eventually also finding hair. Another bend and stretch of the knees and all pretence was wasted.

"Oh, God" she whispered. Her tongue stroked the side of his face as his body moved again. This was wonderful. Her pelvic floor muscles tightened as he did his slow knee bend at the same time.

He let out a huge "aaahh" as his push was restricted by her inner walls. "Elle?" Her name but it was not in conjunction with a sigh, it was a question. She wrapped both her arms around his neck as he took a step forward and her back found the cold tiles. Lifting her left leg up against his right hip he helped her find the correct position and took her weight as her second foot left the floor and wrapped itself, along with it's partner, around his back. Her legs tightened, along with her pelvic floor muscles this time. Sherlock bent his knees again and straightened.

This time there was an "ooo" from her. She tilted her pelvis upward slightly and her mouth and eyes both opened wide as her body tightened around him under his control. Sherlock's hands moved, sliding from her bottom to under her thighs, taking some of her body weight on his arms. Locking his mouth on hers, he began slow and steady thrusts. With him now holding her weight on his arms, she moved her legs so they were down across his tight, pert bottom cheeks. Flexing at the knee she was pulling him into her, trying to dictate a more aggressive rhythm and speed. The time for slow and sensual had passed them by, now she wanted him raw, hard and fast.

Still kissing, hungering after each other's lips whenever they parted, however briefly, he followed the pattern she was encouraging. As his legs then full body started to shake, short shallower thrusts manifolded into pushes and squeezes from both of them as they reached orgasm simultaneously.

For what she believed was the first time in their love life together, Elle had just the one orgasm, but it had been incredibly powerful. Their bodies had been so attuned together: she had got close as he had, calmed when he did, and came as he did, synchronised to the point where she could feel only one heart pounding, their beats identical, chests pressed together. Her legs relaxed, her feet touched ground and the pair of them just stood, still in the tightest of embraces as the shower poured hot water over them.

Finally the embrace separated and Sherlock moved to lean against the wall of the shower, his heart still pumping heavily in his chest. Elle looked up at him but he rolled along the wall facing away from her. Her hand ran down his back tracing the line of his spine.

"Sherlock, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, really. Would you pass the shampoo please. We need to start getting ready if we are spending the weekend with Mary and John." Rubbing shampoo in his hair he lathered then passed the bottle back over to Elle who did the same. He reached and grabbed the same bottle again as Elle put conditioner through her locks. He rinsed immediately. It seemed his thoughts were distracted as he had meant to condition too. Body wash and conditioner - the right bottle this time - quickly and out of the shower before she had finished rinsing off the body wash, Sherlock positively galloped out of the bathroom into the bedroom to dry and dress.

Elle walked into the bedroom in some trepidation. Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed, trousers on but not fastened yet, still shirtless, with his damp head in his hands. "What is the matter, Sherlock? Please tell me. Is there something wrong?"

"No. I am just being an idiot. I am... I have just had an epiphany. I realise now how much I want you in my life. Elle, move in with me. Permanently. Here, at Baker Street. I am sure we can come to some arrangement with your house mates to keep your room for when we want it, but I want you here, with me, always, as your main residence."

"I am living nearly permanently with you now, but don't you think this is a bit early for us to be making such a commitment? We have not known each other four months yet."

"I know. Just be grateful. I nearly asked you something else even more committed instead, but I thought that really would be overstepping the mark a little early."

"You are not serious?"

"Deadly. Elle, I want you as permanently in my life as much as I want to live here at Baker Street, want John as my best friend, want, or should I say have Mycroft as a brother. You've changed my outlook on life. I actually like myself, others seem to as well. It's down to you. I cannot consider my life without you."

She looked at him and surveyed the man she thought she was starting to know. He looked shattered. Is this the influence she had on him? Perhaps they were already spending too much time together? She knelt in front of him and put her arms around him. Her embrace was returned. If she had not known better she may have believed he could be crying. Maybe he had something in his eye...

"The house is mine. Don't worry about those sorts of arrangements. Put all this on a back burner Sherlock. I need to think about it. May I give you an answer when we return here on Tuesday? It is a big decision. I don't want to rush into it."

"Of course... Should we even bother to pack pyjamas?" He smiled, and she relaxed.

"We had better. If our track record with John and Mary stays consistent we will probably wear them more than anything else."

"Good point. Taking your negligee?"

"I don't think I need to. I am taking my satin robe though."

"Take your negligee." This was no longer a question. She nodded. Sherlock picked a pale green shirt from his wardrobe, fastened the five lower buttons, and tucked it into his black jeans. A black and grey v-necked cotton jumper over the top and he was ready, left the bedroom and checked he had everything packed he needed.

Ten minutes later Elle came out of the room. She had cane plaited her wet hair, added a little mascara, brow liner and neutral lip gloss, put on the brand new t-shirt and jeans she got for her birthday from her friends, and came out of Sherlock's bedroom wheeling her overnight case, and carrying her tote. Sherlock glanced at her. There was so much love in his eyes. Alongside his bag was a strong plastic carrier. "A few bottles" he clarified, then "sorry".

Grabbing their waterproof coats, and scarves just in case, they went downstairs. One good thing about Baker Street, you don't need to ring for a taxi, cabs were passing by all the time. Sherlock flagged one down, grabbed three of the bags and Elle climbed in first with her tote then Sherlock passed the bags to her and alighted himself whilst giving the driver the address in Hampstead for John and Mary's residence.

For the first time in a long time Elle was more pleased to be in company with Sherlock than just with him alone. He seemed to be in a very emotive place at the moment and anything seemed possible: either him flying off the handle or even bursting into tears, she just did not know. Maybe this was what Mycroft had warned her about. However, as soon as they were with Mary and John he seemed to be the relaxed and amazing Sherlock she was so certain she was in love with.

Bottles gifted, greetings exchanged and four large mugs of coffee between them the friends all went and sat out on the patio, enjoying the sun trap that was John and Mary's back garden. Pleasantly sheltered and surprisingly private, the patio housed a grey wicker and glass round table and umbrella, with four matching chairs. They ate a light dinner out there, then Mary surprised them with a homemade cake for Elle's birthday, with a single candle in it.

"Sorry it is not decorated. It is only a lemon drizzle cake but I thought it would be something nice so we could formally celebrate your birthday together, belatedly I know." Elle blew out the candle, feeling silly, and blushing slightly. The other three all smiled at one another.

"It is lovely Mary, thank you. Lemon drizzle is always my backstop where cakes are concerned. I am not a fan of butter cream or tonnes of icing anyway and much prefer something with a bit of tang to it. Thank you also for my lovely birthday presents. I know Sherlock has said a thank you to John on my behalf. They were wonderful. The negligee is exquisite." After a slice of cake each had been eaten and enjoyed, the girls started to wander around the garden together, arm in arm, leaving the boys to talk at the table.

"So pleased you liked the negligee. It seems cheeky your birthday presents are as much for Sherlock as they are for you."

"I still reap the reward" she said smiling. "So long as you reciprocate for his birthday, whenever it is. God, I don't know. How awful is that?"

"I don't know either."

"Perhaps he was not born, rather hewn from a piece of marble. It is strange. I am going to meet his parents in a couple of weeks and I really still know very little about him. Mary, he has asked me to move in with him. Properly. Permanently." She felt she needed to confide in someone. Her timing was perfect: the girls were about as far away from the patio as the garden allowed so Sherlock and John were unlikely to have seen the surprised look that traced across Mary's face at these words.

"And what have you said?" asked Mary, looking slightly surprised but not even vaguely concerned.

"I said I need time to think about it. I feel it might all be happening too suddenly. Our whole relationship has been like a runaway train: exhilarating and exciting, yes, but I feel any moment we could hit a bump that could derail us completely. It has been a long time since I was 'going steady' with anyone, and to Sherlock I think the whole experience is new, and I just feel something is bound to go wrong."

"Not necessarily. Look at John and me. We trawled through ridiculous work hours, me listening to him talk endlessly about his best friend who had died. How big a derailment could you expect other than that friend coming back to life? I went to Sherlock's graveside Elle. I stood arm in arm with John and we cried together. I picked up the broken pieces of John, brushed them down and wished desperately to have known this wonderful friend of his who had meant so much to him and, in no exaggerated terms, saved his life - John was incredibly depressed before he met Sherlock, you know, after leaving Afghanistan. Then suddenly, Sherlock turned up, alive and kicking, at a restaurant pretending to be a waiter."

She took a deep breath. "John mourned him. I mourned him and did not even know him. Then he was there again. I thought it would ruin our relationship, but it didn't. What it did do is give me a far greater man than the one I had initially fallen in love with because John sparks off Sherlock. They spark off each other - you said it weeks ago. Instead of fearing Sherlock would tear John away from me I found John all the better, and loved Sherlock as a result of it. I understood what John had said about him. Do not fear Sherlock. I have seen a beautiful change in him since you came along. I think you are perfect for one another. He may look like he was hewn from marble, but he is every bit flesh and blood, and he seriously loves you." Elle hugged Mary for being so open and honest. They walked back to the patio.

The evening air was starting to cool so the four friends headed indoors into a very bright lounge with a huge grey corner sofa and separate reclinable chair. Sherlock and Elle waited for the others to sit to see where they would naturally settle. It was Mary who sat curled up on the recliner, whereas John was on the sofa within touching distance of her chair. Elle sat roughly centrally on the settee, with Sherlock close next to her on the opposite side to John. It was lovely and relaxing being in the happiest of company again. All four of them now appreciating they bring out the best of one another.

Rubbing her eyes Elle realised she had been wearing mascara for over six hours; never a good thing when you are as sensitive as she is and only rarely wear make-up. She made her excuses to nip upstairs to remove the stuff, Mary taking her upstairs to show her which bedroom she and Sherlock would be sharing. Elle carried her overnight case and her tote with Mary bringing up Sherlock's bag to save him having to do so later. Mary led the way and opened the door to the spare room.

The room was substantial to say it was the spare. Painted in sun-kissed yellow, it had a warm and airy feel about it. All the accents in the room were cornflower blue and white, setting off the yellow tone of the room in general. A winged wicker chair sat in one corner, which was white with blue cushions, but the rest of the room consisted of natural pine furniture, a whitewashed pine floor, white sheets and pillow cases with a blue and yellow duvet cover and navy blue throw across the bottom of a pine double bed. The curtains were lined navy blue corduroy. The whole room was fresh and inviting.

"Can I come in?" asked Mary after showing Elle the room.

"Of course. What a lovely room Mary. What's on your mind?"

"I wanted to give the guys chance to talk and thought I would keep you company whilst you remove your make-up. It gives them some time, and us time without the boys."

Elle undid her case and lifted out her satin robe, pyjamas and negligee and laid them on the end of the bed, then pulled her wash bag out and found a couple of cotton wool pads and some blue eye make-up remover. She doused both pads then applied them to her eyes, dropping her head back and sighing deeply as the blue liquid cooled her eyes in a secondary role following mascara removal. No rubbing, just half a minute later she took the pads off her eyes and gently wiped across her lashes but all the mascara was on the pads now and no more product came away.

"That stuff looks impressive."

"It is. It is my desert island product. Not only is it fantastic at getting rid of mascara quickly and easily as you see, but it is so cooling and refreshing on the eyes I use it near enough daily for that pleasure even when I am not wearing make-up."

"My desert island product would probably be a lip treatment I use. Really refreshing also but it means I no longer get any chapping, whether I am changing environments, or if the weather is harsh. I see you have brought your negligee with you."

"As I said it is very beautiful. It feels so wonderful and sheer on the skin. I had not intended to bring it on this visit, but it was to fulfil a request."

Mary smiled. "I have one too. Mine is midnight blue and the star sequins on it are silver. I agree it feels lovely on the skin, not that I get that much wear out of it, bearing in mind the effect it has on John."

Elle returned the smile. "Same here with Sherlock. I unwrapped it and put it on, walked around the bedroom once and he insisted I took it off so he did not damage it. Whoever the designer is they have an incredible insight into what men really like on women, for sure."

"I would like to see you in yours. Do you fancy having some fun with the boys? I will go and put mine on over a dark pair of undies and we can go down together."

"OK. Wait a sec." Elle rummaged in her case and pulled out a fresh pair of black lace-edged undies and changed whilst she and Mary continued to talk. Fastening the tie, she stood in a 'ta-dah' pose, arms open, for her friend to admire the ensemble.

"Wow. I could fancy that myself. Come on, come with me into my room." Elle followed Mary into her's and John's bedroom. It was an impressive room not dissimilar to Elle's room at Kew in proportions. Painted in a pale apricot colour, with sapphire blue accents on the chairs, curtains and bed throw, with a kingsize bed sitting over a natural wood floor and dark apricot round rugs either side of the bed. John called upstairs to see if the girls wanted a drink. Mary settled on a Gin and Tonic again, after confirming they had Bitter Lemon in the fridge, Elle asked for Gin with that.

"What a lovely room too, it is a beautiful house Mary."

"Thank you. We love it. Especially this room and the fact it has an en suite shower room. Unfortunately the shower is only a generous square so it takes real skill, recently perfected, to get more than one of us in it. That reminds me of your carrot of the four of us in your shower at Kew together. Here, this is my negligee. What do you think?"

Mary began to change into her negligee. "What a wonderful colour. I do not wear blue at all. Even all my jeans are black or grey or summer colours, but that is lovely. We will have to have that trip to Kew soon. And wow to you too. That looks fabulous on."

"Thanks. Have you thought any more about Sherlock's proposition?"

"Yes. I think I am going to accept and move in with him. We can use Kew as a retreat if we want to get just a little way out of the City. Thank you for your advice and honesty. It must have been a terrible time for John."

"It was, but now things are nearly perfect. Oh, I am so pleased." Mary hugged Elle. Instantaneously four nipples took firmer shape and they both laughed. "Ready? Our drinks will be getting warm as well as our men if we stay up here much longer."

"Ready."

John and Sherlock were in deep conversation. They had so obviously been talking about the girls but changed the subject to work as soon as they heard them descending the stairs. John turned.

"Your drinks are... oh, shit!"

"What?" exclaimed Sherlock before turning, then "wow" his eyes suddenly looking like dinner plates in size, his mouth falling open.

"Well, Sherlock, you did suggest I brought it with me. There would be no point if I was not going to actually wear it." He stared longingly at Elle, then over to Mary, then to John, then back to Elle and Mary, both standing with a shaft of light from the hallway behind them. Again he looked at John. John had kicked off his shoes and was gathering his shirt and jumper up from behind his head to remove them. Sherlock smiled and copied his friend's actions.

Both men were now topless. John's body was creamier in colour than the marble white of his friend, but he had a well toned physique, albeit all on a smaller scale than Sherlock, standing six inches shorter than the lean detective. Muscular arms and trim waist highlighted the fact he had looked after himself well since leaving the Army.

The girls walked forwards and into the arms of their respective lover. Four pairs of lips were now engaged. Sherlock kissed so passionately Elle could feel herself going light-headed as though she lacked oxygen. Sherlock released her. "Bedroom?" he asked John who was still kissing Mary.

"Won't make it. Wall!" John started to walk Mary back to the wall of the lounge, holding her in one arm and unzipping his fly with the other. Sherlock watched, understood and moved Elle in the same way, also unzipping his jeans. His eyes stared deeply into Elle's as her shoulders met wall. He started kissing her again but then heard a noise from literally no more than a couple of metres away that confirmed his friend and wife were a lot further ahead in this than he was. 

Pushing his lips tight against Elle's Sherlock's tongue slipped into her mouth as he removed himself from his trousers, crooked her undies to one side and pressed himself inside her. Released from the kiss both he and Elle groaned loudly as their bodies became one and the wall took much of the force of Sherlock's passion, Elle pinned between. Raw, animal, intense, her arms held up above her head Elle felt every nuance and thrust her lover was making.

Unsure why but as Elle went into orgasm, she felt Sherlock button off the power and calm himself. He had managed to take himself close, but because she could do little to aid his aims he was able to execute self-control and slowed down. Their lips released one another and Elle gazed into his eyes. He winked. Pulling away and making himself decent Sherlock turned and walked back into the centre of the room as he heard his friend cry out "Well, what did you think was going to happen then?"

"We hoped for a reaction John, but shit, I thought a bit of passionate fumbling would be about the top of it, leading to more upstairs possibly, not a hot shag against the living room wall. You guys have no restraint."

"With you, and her, appearing like that, the light behind you, I was never going to make it upstairs. You should have called us up rather than come down if that had been your intentions. I was so, I... oh Mary..."

Sherlock picked up his glass. He too was drinking Gin, but with tonic water, ice and a slice of lime, like Mary, knocking it back as if using it as a distraction. His lady walked over to the table and picked up the still full glass laden with ice and a slice of lime too but distinctly bitter lemon in colour. 

"Oh my goodness, Sherlock, we will have to visit our friends more often." He smiled and sat down where he had been less than ten minutes ago, talking to John, not realising they were about to be ambushed by the two negligee-clad women concealing, well, nothing actually, including their sexual desire.

"You look lovely girls" Sherlock added, finishing the end of his Gin. John had slumped on the sofa.

"We guessed as much" responded Mary. "Glad you like these" she said holding out the hem of her negligee.

"'Like' doesn't come into it. You both look amazing. Come here Elle." Elle walked over and sat next to him again. He played with her plaited hair then kissed her. "Are you ok?" She nodded and smiled. He was forever the gentleman, checking she was all right whenever sex had been even vaguely brutal.

"I think we need to take this upstairs. Fancy an early night?" Sherlock now nodded and smiled, his eyes dilating as his brain roared into activity thinking about what was about to transpire. "So, do you two want to join us, us join you or shall we go it alone?" Elle was looking at Mary and John.

"You two are going again? I don't think I can. Jeez, Sherlock, you are some lover." John seemed resigned to sitting this one out.

"Indefatigable I think is the word you are looking for" Elle helped. "It is well gone 11. For most people that is far from an early night anyway. Coming?"

"No thanks" sighed Mary. "You two go ahead. We will see you tomorrow morning, around 10? The family bathroom is free for you as we have an en suite. Good night." They all said their good nights and the married pair curled up on the sofa together, John stroking his wife through her negligee, as their friends climbed the stairs. 

Elle was first in the bathroom, having already found her wash bag earlier in the evening. Sherlock still had to unpack all his toiletries and gear. Both of them had a quick refreshing shower, then brushed their teeth, meeting in the bedroom, Elle lying under a sheet, her negligee hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

"You and Mary both looked lovely in those" Sherlock stated as he put his blue silk gown on the same peg.

"Thank you. You look lovely without anything. Bernini would be proud."

"Bernini? Who is Bernini?"

"Surely you have heard of Gian Lorenz Bernini - the Italian marble sculptor. You look like one of his masterpieces come to life. Sherlock... oh God." Elle closed her eyes pushing her head hard into the pillow. She felt Sherlock's weight join her on the bed.

"Hey, wait for me" he whispered. She opened her eyes, smiled, rolled to her side, kissed his lips, then let her tongue traverse down his neck, visiting her favourite mole, then on to his collarbone, nipples, bullet wound, navel. She looked up for his eyes, reminiscent of the first time she did this at Kew, but this time they were there to catch hers. A soft smile of acceptance crossed his slightly parted lips, as she used hers to take his cock into her mouth. They both released an audible gasp, hers slightly muffled. Catching his eye again Elle slipped her hand under his rear and rolled him, first on to one hip, but she kept the momentum going so he was now lying on his front, immediately taking his weight on his arms and straddling his legs either side of her. Her hands gripped his hips and she dictated his moves.

He was reluctant at first to stay in this position, but she made it feel so sensual he could not bring himself to immediately force a change. He was even more trepidatious about moving as she wanted him to, but again control was not really his own, and he started, very gently, to exaggerate the hip movements she was creating for him. He felt his mouth dry and eyes roll into the back of his head. This was never going to last long, being in her throat was too much. Bending his left elbow, and crossing his right leg away from her he let his arm, shoulder and finally back re-find the bed, Elle rolling with him. 

She had no intention of letting go and took him deeply again, but he was going to call this one, and pulled her off him and back up the bed, re-moving on to his side to stroke and kiss her body, lingering familiarly around her breasts. He went down on her, tasting and tantalising her as the bucking of her hips confirmed her desires. Kissing her navel, breasts and lips his smile found her eyes. Sliding two fingers inside her he could feel the heat of her whole body temperature rise. She was swollen, damp, responsive, ready. His eyes watched hers as they seductively closed. He kissed her softly, then pushed himself between her folds and inside her. Now he could move.

Long progressive moves kept her gasping and wanting more of him. Her hands were around his shoulders, no, moved to grip his bum cheeks, no, across his back, into his hair, in the meantime she seemed to be exploring his mouth with her tongue. She plucked his lower lip in between hers, guarding her teeth having bitten him previously, and sucked gently. Her mouth went slack, her hands released his head and dropped open on the bed. Her thighs tightened around his, and her glutes clenched, along with her internal walls, so intensely he thought he would no longer be able to move at all, but he was wrong. Every nerve of his own body was telling him to push, and push like hell. Hanging his head, dripping with sweat, seven, eight, nine, ten deep thrusts and his own body went into a detonation sequence of shakes and shudders as he too was engulfed by orgasm.

Cuddling, kissing occasionally, stroking softly, their bodies continued to stimulate the other for a further twenty minutes. They did not speak, just communicated with tiny gestures sensitising the skin, feeding off the touch, recounting the pleasure in their minds. One salubriously wet kiss later and Sherlock was heading out of the bed into the bathroom. Elle heard him shower and then heard the tap. He had gone out of the bedroom in his robe but came back into the room with a bitter chocolate brown-coloured towel slung low on his hips, his navel and hair line protruding above the top of the towel, same bitter chocolate shade. With sparkles of water still on his torso he stood in the room looking like one of Bernini's finest.

"Damn you Sherlock."

"What is the matter? What did I do? I thought you enjoyed it."

"No, not that! Have you looked in a mirror recently? You are the embodiment of male sexuality. I'm never going to feel clean." Her body temperature was climbing yet again.

"Go and have a cool shower, then you will."

"Yes, but I cannot wash that vision out of my head. You are so very beautiful. You really do not understand what it is you do to me do you?"

"No. I mean, yes, I mean. Why is this so complicated?"

"You know that feeling you and John both had when Mary and I came downstairs in our negligees?"

"Ooh, yeah!"

"Well, that is how I am feeling right now, seeing you standing there with your body glistening and your towel, and..." He walked towards her, smiling contentedly.

"And you want me." It was not a question from him, he was just finishing off her sentence, staring at her wide dilated eyes.

"And I want you" she confirmed.

"Then you can have me. Go and freshen up, and if you still feel the same way, I am yours, remember?"

Elle climbed out of bed, rinsed her mouth and showered, re-plaiting her dampened hair and tying the end off with a covered band, still returning in just under nine minutes. Wrapped in a towel under her arms herself she walked back into the bedroom. "It is no good, Sherlock. Even after a cool shower I still want..." She looked across to the bed, having been purposefully averting her eyes to give herself as long a time as possible to calm down. 

Sherlock was sitting up in the bed, reading as ever. He looked the picture of innocence but heat in her was so high she could not resist. With the duvet thrown off because of the warmth she could see from his outline under the sheet he was already aroused. She did not towel down, just wrapped herself in her satin robe, tying the outer belt and trying to make herself feel cooler and more serene. British weather. All in what seemed like a heartbeat the evening temperatures had changed from chilly to quite sultry. Sherlock looked up at her and smiled. Her robe was clinging to every curvaceous line of her body.

"Do you still want me?"

"Yes" she whispered.

"Good job because I want you. Come here." She started undoing her belt but he beckoned her over and stopped her, licking the last vestiges of water droplets off her breasts. "You had better get in here. I have something for you."

Looking inquisitively Elle took off her robe, dropped it to the floor by the bed and climbed in under the sheet, Sherlock guiding her hand immediately down the bed to touch the cock ring he was wearing.

"You are flirting with danger. You know how I'm feeling already yet you spring this on me. What am I going to do with you?"

"Anything you like. I will do whatever you want. Set me a task. Make love to me Elle."

"Don't you mean with you?"

"No, to me. I want you to do whatever you want or need to. Pleasure yourself using me." His deep, rich voice sounded as smooth as honey. His eyes closed and most of his body relaxed into the bed. Keeping herself on her side, she went down the bed, where her hand then her mouth found the only non-human component on Sherlock's body. With the tip of her tongue she licked around the ring, then up his shaft taking the head into her mouth, playing with his foreskin with her lips. A long sigh expired from her lover. Rotating wrist action, moist lips, continuous penetration into her mouth then throat, she was playing him like a virtuoso.

She relinquished her oral hold on him and searched for his eyes. They were now wide open. As she stared into them, she took his hand and guided it to touch her clitoris. Even though she was expediting the move her body still shocked to his touch. She closed her lips onto his then pressed her tongue into his mouth. Using his hand still in hers she rolled the pair of them so he was now on top of her. Releasing his hand she guided his body inside her, moving both her hands to take tight hold of his bum cheeks and push him into her.

As her muscles went into spasm she felt him take his weight on his arms. "Got me where you want me?" he asked teasingly.

"Right place, but I want more" she breathed in reply.

"Oh. Like this?" He thrusted, she gasped, then nodded. He thrusted some more, she gasped again, sliding her legs up his and wrapping her thighs around his hips. He put his hand underneath her backside, tilting her slightly towards him, then began to really take the control of the rhythm. 

Over half and hour later everything was calm again in their bed. They had given and taken everything, shared many highs, finally for their heartbeats to start to find normality again, their bodies parting, and the ring removed. Elle concluded she did like that thing. It did not directly effect either of them significantly, but just having Sherlock wear it, and the fact they both knew he was, spurred on their fun and games. Elle curled up behind Sherlock as they relaxed, talking generally, eventually falling asleep, her head against the back of his shoulder.


	23. Late birthday surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than just steak and strawberries on the menu for the birthday girl

Voices downstairs, the smell of coffee and bacon in the air, it must be breakfast time. Sherlock was the first to emerge from the bed, sighing and replete, kissing and withdrawing from his lover, heading into the bathroom, returning in his robe (he remembered the effect just a towel had last night) towel drying his hair. A further gentle kiss on the lips as the lovers passed one another, he aiming for his clothes, her the bathroom.

Elle arrived dressed, flushed, dry hair still in a plait, downstairs as John was pouring out some orange juice. "Bottled only, I'm afraid, we don't have any fresh oranges in the house unfortunately." Juice, bacon butties and coffee were all eagerly consumed before a quiet walk, in warm Spring weather finally, through some of Hampstead Heath, one of "London's lungs" as John had referred to it. 

There seemed to be a lot of people about but everyone was relaxed and enjoying some warm spring sunshine. John and Sherlock seemed fascinated to see how the relationship had developed between their two ladies. As the path had meandered John and Sherlock had hung back slightly leaving the girls to walk ahead of them. They had automatically linked arms and were like two peas in a pod, talking and laughing, glancing around occasionally to see whether the boys were still in tow. Elle would count Mary as one of her closest friends now.

John and Sherlock's talk drifted to their most recent case. It all seemed so demoralisingly and unnecessarily complicated to John, then Sherlock would just break down his observations and analysis and there was the full picture in front of the doctor, as though he was standing back at the scene. He envied Sherlock's ability but knew, until recently, how he used to be so tortured when his brain was not fully engaged in deduction. Now, the smile of a woman, one particular woman, melted his heart and the torment he would suffer so badly, alleviated. 

He too liked this new Sherlock. When at work Sherlock was no different, other than avoiding being engaged in conversation about who his girlfriend is. Other than occasionally with Greg, Sherlock did not talk about Elle to any of the people he was working alongside, with the exception, of course, of John. Sergeant Sally Donovan and co. seemed a little more relaxed around Sherlock; she had stopped calling him 'the freak' and 'psychopath' now, at least to his face. 

Returning to John and Mary's the four sat down with cold drinks - two lagers, an orange juice for Mary and water with a lot of ice in it for Elle - as they sat and relaxed and talked and laughed. Elle closed her eyes momentarily whilst sitting with her head leaning on the back of the settee. A smile grew across her face totally unconsciously.

"Look at that face of guilty pleasure" said John. Mary and Sherlock acknowledged as Elle opened her eyes to realise they were all staring at her.

"What? Can I not just sit and think now?"

"No. Not with a smile like that on your face. Where were your thoughts? In your jeans?"

"No Sherlock, in yours. [There was a sight John and Mary had not seen before: the porcelain white face of Sherlock Holmes blush.] Well, you did ask!" 

"I have something for you upstairs, if you want it?"

"Oh. Is it animal, mineral or vegetable?"

"Definitely animal."

"Sounds like you are playing 20 questions. Can we join in?"

"Of course John" laughed Sherlock. The two men smiled at one another for what seemed no reason at all.

Sherlock led Elle upstairs by the hand, his lager drained, her iced water going up with them. They sat on the bed together, kissing, stroking one another. Her face lit with another smile, which Sherlock returned. "I think I need to go to the bathroom" Elle stated breathlessly. He nodded. "Should I take my robe or my negligee to change into?"

"I think the negligee would be more appropriate. OK with you if I just change into just wearing bed sheets? I don't think I will be needing anything else." 

"If it is good enough for the Palace it is good enough for me. See you in a few minutes." Elle laughed, then disappeared into the bathroom. Firstly she splashed her face and towelled dry before removing her clothes - all of them - and just put on the negligee. Making sure her plait was still intact in the mirror she noticed a muscle jumping in her throat. Just the thought of him waiting in there was sending waves of pleasure crashing over her physique. She blew air through pinched lips, trying to calm herself, trying not to feel so desperate for him. 'Relax' she instructed her reflection.

Out of the bright bathroom, she headed back into her's and Sherlock's room to find it very dark. The curtains were drawn. Her eyes took a little time to adjust to the lack of light. She looked towards the bed to see her lover. The sight shocked, stimulated and surprised her. "What on Earth?"

John and Mary had joined Sherlock in their bed. All were leaning back, obviously naked, on slightly tilted pillows, their eyes all looking towards her. The woman in the middle spoke. "Please join us Elle. We all want to make love to you." Elle was stunned. She looked and examined each of their faces: Sherlock's was one of love but longing; Mary's of high anticipation and John's excitement yet apprehension. Immediately cogs were whirring inside her head. Sherlock was going to have to be last on her agenda so she walked around the bed, dropped her negligee and slipped under the sheet next to John, leaning over and kissing him more fully than they had shared previously. John took her lovingly in his arms, stroking her face, then rolled on top of her, rubbing himself against her. Her sensory overkill started; feeling such a very different naked man so close, with his wife and Sherlock alongside, watching.

John's hand found one of Elle's breasts and he lowered his head and frame down the bed so he could kiss it. A groan broke the silence, but it was not from either of the participants: the man on the far side unable to hide a momentary glint of envy of his friend. John returned to kissing her lips. As their kissing and cuddling concluded John lifted himself and moved to the far side of Elle, leaving her between him and Mary, him still stroking her. 

Elle pressed her head into the pillows, took a deep breath and sighed as she let her eyes close. She felt lips from her left kiss her cheek; John: then another kiss in a similar place but to the right, just fractionally later; Mary. Her body warmed through and she could feel it quiver as her lips were starting to yearn to touch another pair, any pair. John kissed her mouth. Then a long, soft kiss, from Mary. It was delicate and sensual and suddenly, hugely erotic. The thought of John and Sherlock lying either side watching stimulated her greatly. She opened her eyes, stared into the dark blue pools of Mary's, put her hands on Mary's face, into her short blonde hair and kissed her even more provocatively than ever.

Soft moans from either side confirmed that the two watchers were enjoying this as much as the incumbents, possibly even more so. Kisses returned to her cheeks again, still from different sides. Elle suddenly felt a multitude of hands touching her. One stroking her inner thigh, a second touching her tummy above the navel, a third on her right breast, a fourth caressing her face and plait, and a fifth, demanding her attention, walking gently up and down her scar. "Sherlock" she thought, not realising initially she had actually said it aloud.

She opened her eyes and looked again into Mary's, who smiled at her then started to move away as she and Sherlock swapped places. Elle moaned: she realised she would have liked more with Mary. Mary moved to Sherlock's outside, Elle now between the boys. Both men kissed a breast at the same time, suckling her. John ran the back of his hand along the contour of her torso and hip, down the outside of her thigh then back; Sherlock was lying on his left side stroking her tummy with his right hand. He kissed her so delicately, barely a peck, warming every inch of her by his touch. He lowered his lips to near her right ear. "Close your eyes. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I want... all of you." Her eyes closed for the duration of whatever was going to happen, her face rolled away from his and her lips were immediately collected by John's. He kissed, softly first then harder, then deeper still. She was loving John's touch, feeling so sensitised by his distraction. She then felt a soft hand stroke her right cheek. Mary. She turned her head and kissed her, wondering where Sherlock was, just as she felt her hips being lifted, her bottom on his thighs, and part of him slide purposefully inside her. It took all her strength to keep her eyes closed. John and Mary were both taking it in turns kissing her, whilst Sherlock's moves were lower, slower and deliberate. She wondered whether either of the outsiders were kissing him. She hoped so.

Hands were stroking her breasts then down her tummy. It felt as though her whole body was aflame. Then two fingers, from different hands, both touched her labia, then swollen clitoris. Too much! Groaning, her head pressed deeper into the pillow, her back arched upwards, her eyes opened and her whole body trembled and contracted in orgasm. Although not focused she noticed Sherlock was leaning back leaving space for the others to play their delightfully wicked touching game. However, as Elle had gone into spasm, she heard one word, "Move", from a velveteen baritone she loved so much. John and Mary relinquished their control of Elle's body as Sherlock's full weight descended against her. She immediately locked her legs against his thighs. Now she had Sherlock where she wanted him and no intention of releasing him until she wanted to. Her right hand settled in the middle of his shoulders. He started to rhythmically move.

Mary and John were still there: kissing her, stroking her and, yes, stroking and kissing Sherlock too. Elle opened her eyes and stared into Mary's. "Join me" she moaned. With those words Mary kissed Elle then slipped out of bed, walking around to her husband the other side and climbed back in, the pair of them becoming one very quickly. Elle grabbed Mary's hand and the girls, both under their guys, kissed each other again. Sherlock then kissed both girls, John followed and then Elle felt a powerful but sensual kiss which told her she now had Sherlock's full attention. The four bodies writhed together, soft sighs and mutterings increased from all involved and became much more vocal and intense. The girls' hands remained clasped together.

At this moment Elle was no longer certain what day it was, what century, or even what planet she was on. Her sensory overload was complete. Regardless of what John had said a few passioned weeks earlier, this felt like one long orgasm. Her whole body was in spasm, the intensity was higher than she had previously known and so totally lacking any control. She was contracting muscles even she didn't know she had, followed by releases that felt as explosive as a cannonball leaving its barrel, then contraction again. The pelvic floor muscles seemed to be trying to expel Sherlock from within her, he being all the more determined to stay with her as long as he could, though he surmised duration was going to be limited thanks to all the additional stimulation.

A shockwave from the other half of the bed told one story clearly. The Watsons had reached their zenith: powerfully, and together, both now totally still and exhausted. Mary squeezed Elle's hand, which she returned, the complete experience transmitted from one pair to the other through the grasp of the girls. Elle slipped the fingers of her free hand into the dampened hair of her lover as she tried to take even more of him into her through their kissing. Tensioning from his toes upwards Sherlock's physique stiffened as if dipped into liquid nitrogen, every sinew, tendon and muscle as rigid as steel, some gargantuan thrusts, and a shudder and he released an inordinately deep groan as every cell of him crumpled, her legs tightening even more around her captive.

The girls released their hands after a squeeze from Elle had transmitted Sherlock's and her finality. 

Air appeared to be a rare commodity as all four of them were gasping for it as though there was a finite amount available. Sherlock and Elle rolled so she was on her right side, eyes wide open staring into his. His expression suddenly changed, his eyes closed and she felt him start to tense once more. Holding him as close and tight as is possible when on your side Elle wrapped her arms and legs back around him as his body shook again. "Holy shit." Sherlock rolled off his lady, she rolled away too, now all four of them were lying with their heads on the pillows, on their backs, shoulder to shoulder, looking towards the ceiling.

The next words heard were also from Sherlock. "I need another shower." He sat up and left the bed. Elle followed, as did John and Mary, slightly behind. All four of them in the bathroom, Sherlock under the water, Elle joined him, helped him wash down his back and as he stepped out and Mary handed him a clean towel, John joined Elle. Keeping her still plaited hair as dry as possible Elle soaped and rinsed with a little help on her back from John, stepped out and Mary gave her a towel then went in the shower herself. They all felt so confident and free with one another's nudity now. They had shared too much to have any embarrassment left, thinking back to John borrowing Elle's robe because he would not walk out of a darkened room without cover, now in daylight he quite happily helped her shower.

Finally the two pairs parted company. Elle went into her's and Sherlock's room to discover in the few minutes Mary and John had been behind them getting to the bathroom they had refreshed their bed linen with clean cotton sheets.

The lovers cuddled up to one another, finishing her water between them; Sherlock's head was on a towel over his pillow as his hair was still damp. "Was it you who came up with that idea? For you all to gang up on me?"

"John and I were talking whilst on our way to a crime scene recently, generally nattering about Mary and you, and I planted the idea of he and Mary 'helping' me make love to you. I did not know how, but John said he would talk to Mary. If she agreed she would let me know by mentioning your birthday. When the cake with the candle came out yesterday, I knew they were both up for it."

"Yet you still made love to me earlier, this morning."

"Never one to miss an opportunity..." He smiled and winked. "I didn't know whether it was going to be this afternoon or later tonight or tomorrow. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes. It was incredible. When all your hands were on me, I didn't know where I was. It was like an out-of-body experience though, at the time, in my body was the only place in the world I wanted to be."

"Yet you were still able to distinguish my touch from John and Mary's?"

"You all touch so differently." Sherlock looked quizzically for an explanation. "Mary has soft, small, very obviously female hands, she is caressive, her touch on me is gentle and just slightly nervous. John's hands are professional, softer than you would expect, but still masculine. There is nothing exploratory though about his touch, as he has touched so many bodies before..."

"Not like he was touching you I hope, or he would get struck off! And me?"

"Yours is a lover's touch. Your hands are the least soft, but obviously feel more at home on my body than theirs so it is evidently more affectionate, more confident yet less tender. I did not feel there was any trepidation in your fingers. They knew where they were and what they were doing. You have long fingers, Sherlock."

"Come on then, prove your theory, which hands were which?"

"John was touching my breast and thigh; Mary my high tummy area and stroking my face. Yours was the hand preoccupied with my scar."

"Five out of five, well done. Do you enjoy kissing Mary?"

"Yes, very much. It is so far out of my comfort zone. I couldn't consider it without you and John here, but when we are together it is just another facet to our love lives. Weird. I would never have believed I could be comfortable kissing another woman. It sounded as though you and John both enjoyed me kissing Mary?"

"Yes. We both did. Glad you invited them to join in. I could see a new side of John watching you two. Talking of John - did you like kissing him?"

"Yes also. We had previously only pecked before, but I enjoyed kissing him properly. Again, so different to you."

"At one point they both touched you very intimately..."

"I know. A shockwave coursed through me, but it was incredibly sensual and erotic and, by then, I did not care who was touching me or where, I was just enjoying it."

"John got on top of you. You must have felt... Would you let John make love to you?"

"I felt him naked and enjoyed having him against me. You mean full sex?" Sherlock nodded. "No. I have grown to adore him as I have Mary but I couldn't make love to him. That would be wrong on so many fronts." Sherlock smiled. "You seem pleased or maybe relieved with my answer?"

"I didn't think you would, even if he was willing, which I doubt. He is married after all. You seem more comfortable in Mary's clutches than John's."

"I am to be honest. It would feel immediately adulterous with John, even with Mary participating, silly it should feel less so groping another woman. That would still be infidelity. I would not want you to make love to Mary, so I couldn't expect it the other way, even if I am the outsider in the group."

"I think it is fair to say you are no longer thought of as an outsider Elle. I think things have transpired between us two, and the four of us together, to more than prove that. Thought any more on my proposal?" Sherlock bit his own lip, remembering he had said he would wait until the long weekend was over, and this was only just over 24 hours later, but he blurted out the question as he wanted to know whether she had at least been thinking about it. He braced himself for a negative or procrastinate answer.

"Yes. I will move in with you Sherlock. I will talk to the girls when we see them face to face at Kew before we head out to your parents for the Spring Bank Holiday." He kissed her deeply and the most perfect of his perfect smiles burst across his face. He kissed her again, smiled and winked and started kissing and caressing her neck and breasts. "Hey! Don't you think we need to go downstairs? I smell dinner."

"I think we need to celebrate."

"Just hold and cuddle me. I am still too fired up from before as you all picked on me. You really are indefatigable."

"OK. But I have to say, you owe me one." Sherlock took a deep breath. A question was on his mind and this seemed as good a time as any to ask it. "Elle, how many lovers have you had?"

"That is a little personal, isn't it?"

"I know. I was just curious. Sorry."

"You are my fourth, if you must know."

After a short cuddle Elle rolled away from a slightly shocked Sherlock, initially intent on dressing, but decided to just put her pyjamas and robe on. Sherlock sat up, stretched and did the same.

"When I was lying back with my eyes closed and you moved in on me, were John and Mary kissing you too?"

"A little. We shared a few kisses, especially Mary and me, but John and I were transfixed watching you two. It's very weird."

"You don't seem to have any... what word do I need?.. any compunction making love to me in front of them. Do you feel any?"

"No. I find it difficult to explain why. I guess we have spent too much time naked, the four of us together, that I feel no shame or embarrassment. It might be different if they were solely watching us, but as they are usually involved with each other I am less bothered than perhaps I ought to be."

"What about when they pulled the strings, puppeteering us? John seemed adamant the root of that particular fantasy was to watch you."

"Us. That was a bit more strange, but it didn't last long. They got too hot too quickly to matter. He enjoyed his fantasy! Do you have a naughty fantasy you would like to fulfil?"

Hesitating she replied "I... I would love to give both you and John a hand job at the same time [she smiled at him, admiring his second slightly shocked expression]. What do you think about the prospect of reversing the puppeteering experiment? Turning the tables on them, and cranking it up a notch in the process?"

"I'm interested. How?"

"We plan the same thing with them in the middle, as they like our fantasies and say we have improved their sex lives, but I was thinking I would control John and you Mary."

"Now that does sound intriguing. That way I could learn exactly what you want by what you make John do. When?"

"Tomorrow perhaps, if they're up for it."

A very powerful and alluring smell emanated upstairs as Elle and Sherlock left their room and headed back down. Joining their friends downstairs they saw John and Mary had chosen nightwear for the rest of the evening as well unsurprisingly.

Mary was boiling new potatoes. The strong smell was cloves of garlic in the water with them. She walked into the lounge carrying a frying pan and asked "How do you two like your steak?"

"Ooo, lovely. Rare for me please Mary" Sherlock replied.

"That is two rare and one medium rare then. Elle?"

"I'd better come and help you with mine" smiled Elle. "I like mine still mooing!" She walked across to help Mary in the kitchen. Mary laughed. John followed the pair in there, Sherlock finally joining them making sure he was still within hearing distance of any conversation.

"Wow Elle. You must like your meat nearly raw then. Maybe you were a vampire in a former life? You seem to enjoy eating Sherlock!" These words had escaped John's lips before he had thought what he was saying. His eyes glazed. "Oh God, I am so sorry." In that snap moment his brain had transported him back to when he walked in on them at Baker Street with Elle half way down the bed.

"A vampire in a former life? I doubt it. I would still be a vampire then wouldn't I? And don't ever apologise for the truth John. I do take a great deal of pleasure eating Sherlock." She winked.

John's eyes finally braved looking towards his best friend. He saw there was a dismissive smirk on Sherlock's face; an eyebrow slightly raised but nothing to convey he was either embarrassed or angry at his friend's remark. Mary's face, on the other hand, looked shocked and livid.

With Elle near the hob with Mary, John asked what people would like to drink with their steak and crushed garlic potatoes. Sherlock, leaning in the doorway, reminded John of the bottles of bubbly he had brought. Normal wine glasses were swapped for flutes and Italian sparkling wine it was, which was very complimentary, surprisingly, to the steak, crushed garlic potatoes and fresh green beans. It was also guaranteed to go with dessert, fresh strawberries with cream, grown in Cornwall: the first British outdoor-grown strawberries of the season. Sherlock explained he and Elle had strawberries for lunch on her birthday, but did not go into any further detail, though a tell-tale smile between them made the others realise there must have been more to that lunch than just fruit.

All the steaks were perfectly cooked. Mary's was the medium rare, John and Sherlock had rare, and Elle's was blue, almost still mooing. With the garlic potatoes and green beans it was a perfect combination without being too heavy. A small bowl of strawberries with a little cream finished the meal, before the men made their way into the lounge as Elle helped Mary tidy up and put the coffee maker through its paces and brought a box of chocolate thins to conclude their dinner. 

The meal had been delicious and, although the atmosphere did not seem as friendly as it usually was, everyone seemed to be quite amiable. John and Sherlock were talking in the lounge waiting for the coffee and the girls. "That was lovely. You are right John, Elle does like her meat incredibly rare."

This comment gave John the opportunity to apologise directly to Sherlock privately about his quip, but Sherlock laughed it off, saying he had been surprised he had not said anything to him before now, having walked in on him and Elle obviously mid-blow job. His friend looked relieved.

To lighten the mood generally John suggested they watched a film together. After much discussion, Sherlock being openly surprised by Elle's in-depth knowledge of most things blockbuster she, Mary and John agreed on 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' with poor Indiana Jones yet again having to fight off the Nazis. Mary sat separately in the recliner whilst John rested on the settee near his wife. Elle snuggled up to Sherlock further along the settee, and afterwards, Sherlock said he had thoroughly enjoyed the movie, having never seen it before. Elle confessed to having seen it a number of times on video then DVD over the years. "A true favourite" she declared, and confessed to having a "soft spot" for the evergreen Harrison Ford, though admitted it was probably a couple of years since she had last seen 'Raiders'.

As the film finished Elle and Sherlock said good night to their hosts, freshened up and headed to bed.

Downstairs, however, things were not so happy. A closing of the lounge door to give at least some cushioning between them and their guests upstairs, Mary was incensed at John for what he had said earlier. He explained that he apologised directly to Sherlock, who had laughed it off, and evidently from her reaction Elle had not been upset, but Mary was so angry with him. The pair of them closed down the house and headed for their bedroom hardly looking at, never mind touching, one another.

Elle decided on a little bit of Indiana Jones magic herself, asking Sherlock which parts of his body were not turned on, and kissing them like the uninjured parts of Indy. It soon transpired that Sherlock was turned on everywhere so the game ran out of steam, though the lovers did not. They spent about forty minutes talking and kissing and cuddling and touching, though nothing more, before falling asleep in each other's arms.


	24. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pulling the strings with the closest of friends, more fun for four.

Morning was showing its glorious colours through and around the dark blue curtains. Elle was back on her side of the bed and Sherlock fast asleep lying on his back. He looked so serene, without a worry in the world, she found it difficult to take her eyes off him. Nipping quietly to the bathroom she returned hanging her robe on the door. She looked at the time on his mobile. 06:36 it read. He had not stirred a muscle. Slithering back into the bed she purposely placed her body close to his so the passive coolness from her would emanate over him.

Every part of her being wanted to wake him, to love him, but he seemed so contented she had not the heart to awaken him, even with passion. Elle snuggled back down into the covers and, rolling away from him she fell eventually back to sleep. 

As she opened her eyes again, what could have been minutes or maybe hours later, but in fact only an hour had passed, she realised she was being roused by a very aroused Sherlock. As soon as her eyes had flickered he had started kissing her all over her face. When she was eventually awake enough to return his kiss he delayed no more and began kissing her breasts first, followed by her neck, her breasts again, her tummy and navel and lower. As the tip of his tongue brushed her clitoris she sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. His tongue navigated its way inside her, causing pleasures beyond belief, blowing her mind.

Some time later he came back up the bed grinning, planting a loving kiss upon her lips, having licked and nibbled her body to convulsion, his eyes pierced hers as his mouth moved to within kissing distance of hers again. "I told you I wanted to celebrate and you owed me" he whispered. Her hands came to rest either side of his face as she pulled him in for another kiss. Running her lips along his cheek bone she sighed, her lips again touching his, then back up the other cheek bone (not wanting to show favouritism). She ran her fingers again through his dark hair and returned the piercing stare.

"Celebrate away" she murmured, her lips now under his, licking his to encourage a kiss again. Her arms locked around his head and face as his tongue licked her lips as it passed them going into her mouth. She lifted her legs around his thighs and sighed just as he pressed himself firmly inside her. An immediate groan of ultimate pleasure and a smile burst across her face. Her right hand remained in his curls whilst her left ventured along his side and settled on his back around waist height.

He was easing himself deeper into her. Violent moves would not be welcome in this love making. With his left hand he removed her right from his hair, placed it palm-side up on the bed by her face, interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed. She returned the squeeze. His lips wandered, stroking the middle of her throat, then along her left collarbone then back to her central line before heading down a little until his lips were on her breast. Stretching himself into an awkward but determined position his mouth found her nipple and he suckled passionately.

Lazy but extremely penetrating movements from him were causing her all sorts of wondrous excitement. Her inner muscles again concertinaed up and down his length as they argued with themselves whether to capture or expel Sherlock from within them. This internal turmoil was taking him closer quicker than any actions he was causing. Elle seemed to have plunged into an orgasmic state from nearly his moment of entry and was obviously not going to stop any time soon. Now she was starting to fight her own body as well as his, as different sets of muscles were contracting and releasing, burning her up from inside sparking his flames as well until his body joined the fire and he came violently.

This session had been physical yet sensual, stimulating and encouraging one another. It had however been dedicated to seduction and the kissing and touching had been equally important to the quality of the sex between them. Yet, when everything snowballed and Sherlock had joined her crescendo, one thing she had not expected it to be was vocal. She had suddenly, unexpectedly shrieked out "Oh my God" at the top of her lungs. Like naughty children they had both pulled the covers high over them trying to muffle the sound (this was the last thing they needed as they were both so hot already), even though the words had already escaped the room. They cuddled and relaxed together, talking, breathing regulating steadily, bodies calming.

John smiled at them both when they walked into the kitchen, but he did not make any comment to them about what he had or had not heard from outside their room, but did ask what his guests preferred for breakfast, then after discussion placed six thick slices of bread under the grill so they became rounds of cheese on toast for four.

Over the night period Mary had obviously finally forgiven John for his crude words the evening before and they were all happiness and light around one another again, kissing as Mary had got up from the table to fetch the coffee. Elle, however, wanted to be sure before any further games were suggested so she made an innocent enquiry of Mary quietly as she passed pots for the dishwasher and gathered mugs for the coffee in their sizeable kitchen.

"Are you and John ok? You seemed a little tense and unhappy last night."

"I don't know why but John's comment about you, I mean, 'eating' Sherlock, really upset me. It was so rude, and so out of character for him, it wound me up like a spring, then I could not relax until we had talked, well, he talked, I shouted, about it. I know neither you nor Sherlock gave it a second thought and both seemed to dismiss it without embarrassment but it distressed me for some reason."

"I am sorry. Were you aware John had walked in on Sherlock and I at Baker Street a while back whilst I was under the covers, [cough] eating?"

"Yes, he told me at the time. He also explained that a flashback of that very moment had suddenly entered his head last night, and he had spoken before realising what he was saying."

"Don't worry about it. Between us I don't want anything about sex to be off the table, at least as far as discussion, further if we are all willing to participate. We are all obviously good for one another, from the point of view of friendship, and fulfilling sexual fantasies. We are living the dream Mary. A lot of couples would like a second couple they could share these kind of moments with and never will because they cannot or dare not approach their friends. I know what we have is not unique but it is amazing."

"I agree. Do you have anymore ideas for us to share?"

"Well, actually, yes. Sherlock and I were talking about one last night. For the four of us again."

"Wow. Some time this weekend?"

"Yes, if you want to. We need to spend some time together, just relaxing first. Make sure you and John are ok with one another again."

"We are ok. He came into the en suite this morning all sheepish, with his tail between his legs, so to speak, then he joined me in the shower..." she smiled reflectively.

"With his tail between yours..." Elle bit down on her own bottom lip, realising she had just done exactly the same kind of thing as John had the night before. She tried to keep her face passive and was about to apologise, but was smirking behind her bitten lip. Mary suddenly burst into fits of laughter, and they continued laughing back to the table with the coffee, mugs, spoons, milk and sugar, Elle saying sorry through all the chortling.

"What has made you two giggle so much?" John enquired.

"Just something Elle said. John, I'm sorry I was angry with you yesterday." She put the coffee pot on a mat on the table - Elle had carried the rest in on a tray - then went over and kissed her husband deeply.

Cups of coffee were poured and drank, and more laughter between the four of them. Mary was the first up from the table, gathering things from her freezer then fridge and putting them into a cool bag, then fetching a rucksack, attaching its matching ground-blanket roll to the bottom, putting the cool bag in the rucksack, adding a few more bits and leaning the lot against the wall.

"Planning something?"

"Yes John, some air, for all of us. Come on, it looks lovely out there. I think Spring has finally arrived in earnest."

The four of them put on trainers and jackets, Mary and John led the way back on to Hampstead Heath, John wearing the rucksack. They wandered around taking in the fresh air and the scenery, with all the beautiful fresh leaves open and flowers everywhere, the Heath was busy and people were all laughing and enjoying the best British sunshine and warmest temperatures for some months, on a May Bank Holiday weekend - usually unheard of in the UK!

Finally the four found somewhere quiet to settle. John rolled the blanket out and they all sat on a corner each, enjoying people watching and the general sights and smells of a fresh Spring day. Mary opened the cool bag and extracted four bottles, two of lager, a bottle opener, a cloudy lemonade for herself and a dandelion and burdock for Elle, all extremely cold still as they had snuggled next to an ice block and a small bag of crushed ice. Both girls added a little of the ice to their drinks.

After finishing their drinks and collecting the bottles up ready for recycling, Mary revealed her next surprise. Out of the front zip pocket of the rucksack she extracted a ring-form frisbee. The four of them played for an hour or so, taking it in turns to sit out, playing tag or just throwing and catching generally. Whilst John and Sherlock continued to play Mary and Elle both rested back on the blanket looking up at the fine wisps of cloud as they danced across a what seemed endless blue sky.

"This was a good idea Mary" Elle sighed. "It is beautiful out here today."

"You don't have to go far to feel you are miles from any city and yet we are still in the heart of London. I really do love this place. Do you fancy a paddle? There are lakes you can walk or swim in if you do."

"That sounds wonderful. Let the boys finish their game, then we will see if they want to stay here or if they want to come too. One problem, what about drying afterwards?"

"I have a couple of those mini micro-fibre towels in the rucksack for that. One between two of us should be enough, just for feet. Gosh. I had not noticed before but your feet are smaller than mine, and I am quite a bit shorter than you."

"I wear a size four, or 37 European and am 5' 6", whatever that equates to in metres I can never remember."

"I'm 5' 3" but my shoe size is five or 39. You are fractionally shorter than John. His shoes are size eight - quite big for a small guy. How tall is Sherlock?"

"Just over six feet. Shoes? I noticed they aren't particularly big but I'm not sure of his size."

At that point in this diverse conversation the two men came and crammed themselves on what little bit of the blanket was exposed near the girls.

"It is really warm now. Mary, do we have another drink in there, or does anyone fancy an ice cream?"

"An ice cream sounds a good idea John. What about a walk through the Heath? You two fancy anything, other than each other of course?"

"An ice lolly of some kind would be good for me, something fruity. Sherlock?"

"I'm fine thanks. I don't want a drink or an ice cream at the moment, thank you. A walk further through the Heath would be great though. It seems even warmer just sitting down."

"What size shoes do you wear Sherlock?" Mary enquired.

"Nine - why?"

"We were just talking about feet and realised neither of us knew what shoe size you were that's all. Let's head towards the lakes. We can paddle if it is not too manic." The four of them gathered their coats and belongings and walked towards one of the numerous lakes within the confines of the Heath. There were a lot of people about but there was plenty of space to paddle so off came shoes and socks, jeans rolled up and feet placed in very cold water. It felt refreshing but it was too cold to stay in long which explained why there seemed to always be space at the side of the lakes for people to do just that. Only the ultimately brave - or stupid - would be swimming in there today.

John spotted an ice cream van. They all towelled off their feet and replaced their shoes and socks, and he fetched fruit lollies for the girls and an ice cream for himself, confirming with Sherlock he still did not want anything sweet. They found another secluded place to sit and, rolling out the blanket again, relaxed in the shade of a large beech tree. The dappled shade being more cool than they were previously, Mary handed Sherlock a second lager as requested and he drank that as the others enjoyed their ices.

Elle enjoyed her sweet treat, cooling her mouth and throat in the process. After finishing his lager Sherlock rested right back, closing his eyes and listening to the bird song all around them, letting his brain and mind drift away into nearly undisturbed blankness. A beautiful smile burst across his face.

"Penny for them" Elle whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek as she leaned close to him.

"I just realised I could be arrested if we were actually doing what I was thinking, in a public place like this. Though it is lovely to feel the warm air on the skin." His voice was quiet, not even audible to Mary and John.

"What were you thinking?"

"How fundamentally ridiculous it is to be jealous of an ice lolly!" A couple of lifts of his eyebrows and a silly grin had supplanted his passive expression.

"Oh, you rat." Elle finished her lolly, demonstrably crushing the last mouthful noisily with her teeth.

"Are you two about ready to head back to the house?" Mary's timing was, as ever, impeccable.

"Ooo, yeah" exclaimed Sherlock, jumping up from the ground and pulling Elle to her feet in the process. They gathered their belongings and the blanket, carrying their jackets, and headed for the Watsons' home. Sherlock and Elle walked with their arms around each other, chatting away, she finally getting the detective to confirm he was not hewn from marble but actually born in early January. There was a sizeable gap between them and Mary and John ahead. Sherlock suddenly stopped beside a lamp post, leaned Elle against it and gave her an incredibly lavish and erotic kiss, rubbing his body and obvious erection extensibly against her groin, pushing his tongue deeply into her mouth.

"Wow" she whispered as their lips parted. "Now that proves feet and cock size have no correlation!" They walked a little faster to catch up to be directly behind Mary and John as they opened the door into their home.

Sherlock headed straight upstairs to the bathroom, having drunk two mugs of coffee and two bottles of lager since last being in there. Elle followed fractionally later, gathering her hair as she went so she could fasten it with the band she left on her bedside table. As Sherlock entered the bedroom Elle closed the door, dropped to her knees, undid his fly, pushed him against the wall, lifted his hard cock into her mouth and sucked him, taking him all the way in a matter of moments, solely orally, swallowing the seed he released.

"What... the effing hell... was that?" he panted.

"What you wanted and what I needed, I think" she replied unashamedly.

"Christ, Elle, I wish you would warn me at least."

"I didn't know it was going to happen until you walked in here. If you had headed downstairs without detouring in here I would have nipped to the loo myself after you and followed you down."

"But I did detour, and you flew at me without warning, then sucked the hell out of me."

"I just guessed that's what you meant when you said you were jealous of an ice lolly, the fact I was sucking it. From that moment on I have been able to think of little else than sucking you, nearly hitting orgasm from the thought alone, then you stopped us in the street for that amazing kiss. Sherlock, I could've taken you there and then."

"We had better head down or John and Mary will suspect we are up to something in here."

"They would be right then, wouldn't they? You go, I still need the loo."

Sherlock headed downstairs, checking his fly, then fluffing his fingers through his hair, hoping he did not look like a man who had just been voraciously sucked off.

"Are you and Elle ready for something to eat Sherlock?" asked John.

"Shortly, she's in the bathroom. What's your thinking?"

"We could order in, else we have some lovely fresh asparagus for something lighter, if there is anything you fancy with that?"

"Yes - asparagus and something will be enough for me as I am not excessively hungry so just a light bite would be more than ample."

Elle re-entered the room, looking refreshed rather than flushed. John put a similar query to her he had asked Sherlock. "How hungry are you Elle? We were thinking of asparagus and something. One of neighbours grows his own on his allotment, and had a bumper crop, so gave us a couple of bunches. It only lasts a few weeks and goes woody very quickly if uncut so we were more than happy to take some off him. Would you like some? If so, any bright ideas what with?"

"I love asparagus, yes please, especially if it is that fresh. My favourite thing to have it with is a soft poached egg and some cold ham or something for a different texture and temperature."

Having agreed on asparagus and soft poached eggs, it was eaten along with a quarter of an avocado each, as there was no cold meat in the house and everyone liked the idea of something cold on the plate, plus some crispy panchetta, which all turned out to be a match made in heaven.

It was more than enough and the four of them, drinks in hand, settled down to talk whilst they sat on the settee. Sherlock was never still. He was always stroking Elle: touching her arm, her neck, moving or playing with her ponytail, running his hand across her leg, hanging his arm around her shoulders or just sitting with his hand on her back, he seemed incapable of relaxing without his hand somewhere on her anatomy.

The sky was dark now and John too was getting fidgety. There was obviously something on his mind. As he got up to fetch some drinks he seemed very distracted and Mary asked him what was wrong. "I feel hugely turned on. It seems my body has gone into overdrive just being around you two, hoping we will experience something as a foursome again."

Elle responded. "In that case John I think we should forget about the drinks. I suggest we take some water with us, get ready for bed and all meet in one room."

"All four together? [Elle nodded assent to Mary] Let's make it ours then. I know how compliant we all are but I think it would be better not to squeeze into the double in the spare room. Ours is a kingsize." The plan was agreed, Elle and Sherlock would join Mary and John in their room shortly after a freshen up and teeth and hair brushing duties.

"Do you think John and Mary will expect you to lead on this again Elle?" enquired Sherlock as they dried themselves after their shower.

"I would imagine so, and hope so too. Did we not have the idea about taking their reins?"

"Yes, that's right. You want me to puppet Mary though, you said, and you John?"

"Yes, giving us all an insight into what we each want and enjoy. Just don't think about it too much or we will all feel too self-conscious to suggest anything."

"What do we do whilst we are puppeteering? Are we going to be either side of them?"

"I think it would be better if we are on the same side of the bed, then as things move on we can start pulling each other's strings, as well as theirs." Wearing pyjamas, they went across to John and Mary's room.

"Any preference which side you want to be?" Mary asked after the second couple knocked on the door and entered the dimly-lit bedroom.

"None at all" assured Elle. John and Mary shuffled to the right side of the bed as viewed from being on it, and Sherlock and Elle walked around the bed and removed their pyjama tops, Sherlock stealing a small kiss on Elle's breasts before sliding under the covers.

"What shall we do Elle?" asked Mary half breathlessly.

"Sherlock and I are going to puppet you two." They nodded, seemingly to like this idea, having done the same at Baker Street but with them puppeteering on that previous occasion. "However, as a step change, we have decided that I will direct you John, and Mary, your instruction will come from Sherlock."

Both wide-eyed at this small twist on a proven plan, all was agreed.

"Lie on your side John" Elle started. "Put your hand on Mary's face then glide it slowly down her body. Let your fingers caress her nipples gently. Now, slowly roll on to your back."

"Respond Mary. Touch your face against John's. Run your hand across his chest to his war wound. Kiss the wound, then return and kiss his lips. Make him take your tongue into his mouth."

"Run your fingers through her hair. Gently. Better. Take her kiss. Take it deeply. Enjoy the intensity of your lover's touch." Sherlock smiled at Elle. He felt sure she could make describing putting the dishwasher on sound seductive. "Finger tips only, run both hands softly and gradually down her back."

"Time to move. Traverse down his body slowly. Kiss his nipples. Keep your tongue in contact with his skin and move towards his navel. Now, circle his navel with your tongue then blow gently, cooling his dampened skin."

"Relax John. Stay in the moment and out of your mind and try not to second guess what might be about to happen. You may miss something else if you do."

"Place a hand on the inside of his thigh. Slide your hand slowly and steadily down towards his knee. Let a finger circle his knee cap, now bring your hand back up his inner thigh slowly as you slide yourself lower down the bed. Kiss the root of his cock. Run your tongue all the way up to the tip. Kiss him. Dampen your lips, cup his balls - they want to join this party too - now slide your mouth down him. Move your hand now to hold him. Go deeper down him. As deep as you dare. Tighten your lips then withdraw back up to the tip. Kiss him again. Slide your hand up and down him behind your lips. Now repeat the action, a little faster, not rushed, and love him. Let your tongue caress every inch of his shaft. Enjoy it. If you are, he most certainly will be." Sherlock took a deep breath and rolled on to his back, smiling. To Elle this had sounded like magic, his baritone voice intoxicated her. Mary continued without further instruction.

As Elle started to direct John again, in a soft, ghostly whisper, she slid her hand inside the top of Sherlock's pyjama bottoms and lowered them over his hips, then removed her own and deftly discarded both pairs using her feet. As she directed one male she intuitively took a soft grip of her lover's phallus and began caressively stroking and gently stimulating him with a meritorious hand job.

"Don't just accept all this attention. Roll her over, she's taking too much of an advantage. Start as you mean to go on. A deep kiss. Try and keep your tongue or at least one hand in contact on her at all times. Move down the bed. Suckle at her breast. Squeeze the nipple tightly in your lips, gently bite it. Now the other, there's no room for favouritism here. Slide your hand down her body. Keep your kisses one step behind your fingers. Explore her navel with your finger. Place your head on her tummy and listen for that heartbeat echoing throughout her form. Let it talk to you. Is it beating faster? Yes, then she is ready for you, but you must be sure. Move your mouth to her navel, kiss it, dampen the skin, blow a cool breath across it. Gently slide one finger down over her pubic bone and between her folds. Touch that elusive clitoris and understand her reaction. She moves towards you, she is receptive and wants you to touch more. If she jerks away, she is either over-sensitised already or your touch was too harsh." Mary moved involuntarily towards John.

This seemed almost crazy, giving sex instruction to a doctor, but the pair of them were so into the whole process they did not seem to care. "Your middle finger is her second best friend, slide it carefully inside her. Concentrate on what her body is telling you. Is she swollen already? [John nodded, not removing his lips from Mary] Good, then she wants you as much as you want her now. Damp too? Good. It's decision time. Only you two know how much Mary likes oral. If yes, slide further down the bed and let your tongue trace the line from her clitoris inside her. If not, keep your tongue or your free hand on her body and move back up the bed until you can plant a loving and deep kiss on her lips. Remove your finger slowly and take your cock and guide it carefully into her..." 

Elle's voice trailed off. Her mind now directed to the man in her hand. She released her grip. "Wow" whispered Sherlock with his mouth close to her ear, as he slid his own middle finger inside Elle. "That was sensational." Was he talking about her description, or what she had been doing to him? Either way Sherlock was very aroused and started to slide down the bed. He knew Elle enjoyed oral, but she lifted his face and shook her head. He smiled, reading her desires as if they were words inscribed on her eyes. Re-aligning his frame between her legs, piercing her eyes with his own, his lips found hers, his tongue tickled inside her mouth as he found his angle and pushed himself inside her, receiving a moan of utter delight.

All four bodies were taking shallow breaths, as the two men penetrated the depths of their women completely oblivious to what the other couple were doing. John's rhythm was formulaic but effective. He was taking his wife to an extreme high, controlling his own orgasm to ensure she was there with him. Sherlock, on the other hand, was less structured. He would set a shallow rhythm then change to a few really deep thrusts, returning to the original pattern again, so there was no second guessing what was happening from one moment to the next for Elle.

Time passed and a shriek of pleasure and a grunt of fulfilment confirmed to Sherlock's left Mary and John had both climaxed, and almost simultaneously. They suddenly went quiet, just heavy breathing from both of them, as they kissed and began to unwind themselves. That half of the bed at least was now calm.

By now, Sherlock and Elle were hitting top gear. Elle was fighting him every step of the way, using her muscles against him as he worked himself inside her. All control left the pair as his hand closed around her throat and he pumped her eight or nine times as hard as he could, fucking her, expelling an enormous roar as her legs tightened on him and she returned his medicine, ramming him back with equal noise and ferociously too. Her legs wrapped tighter still as their bodies started to shudder and shake together and he forced a kiss on her, intensifying more and more for around half a minute, when lips parted, he released her throat, her legs relaxed and she swore at him loudly.

"You bastard. Damn you Sherlock. God, that was extraordinary!"

"Holy crap. What the hell are you on? I gave you... oh... no..."

"What?" She had asked the question but she knew the answer. His eyes closed, face screwed up and he started to shake and shudder again. A loud gasp then groan as his head fell against her shoulder. "Now you are just showing off" she murmured near his ear, running her fingers through his sweated curls, as he smiled, all his weight bearing down on her, his lips charging hers with a substantial and gratifying kiss.

"Twice Sherlock? Twice?" Now even the doctor in the bed was impressed or just disbelieving. "Bloody hell, no wonder you have it off so often if that's a sample of what you two can achieve." As the second pair started to finally calm John spoke of how their directions had intensified all that was usually great about their sex life. Both had thought it intriguing they had turned the tables on who was puppeteering whom. "It definitely sounded more erotic being instructed by a woman, but I guess because you knew what you would want, you guided me to do that for Mary."

"And vice versa" agreed Mary. "Until tonight I never appreciated what sensual voices you both have. Additionally, hearing what is about to happen is so exhilarating because of the anticipation. I loved the fact you told John to stay with me in the moment in case his brain was rushing ahead."

"Sherlock and I had a situation once where he admitted when I had got to his nipples his brain had been a few steps ahead and so I could have done anything in that in-between time, before reaching the destination he was thinking of I mean, and he would have been none the wiser. That is why. We wanted to make sure he was with you just at the point John's full focus would have shifted elsewhere."

"And the inside of the thighs is a very erogenous zone, for me anyway ["Me too" John agreed] so it was nice to give it some time in the spotlight. It was also a diversionary tactic. I know I love it when Elle touches me there."

"You described and instructed that blow job quite wonderfully Sherlock. I think I understand now what you and Elle love about it so much." Mary sounded in awe of the other couple.

"Yes" agreed John grinning. "You give great head Sherlock!" They all laughed. "When you two started I thought you would begin with a blow job too."

"We couldn't" said Elle unapologetically. "At the time we started I was still directing you, and your instructions would have been a lot less clear, and anyway, my Mother taught me not to speak with my mouth full." Smiles then more laughter filled the bed. Elle leaned over and kissed Mary on the cheek, then reached for John. His kiss met her lips. "Good night John" Elle said winking.

"Good night. Thanks" he said, almost embarrassed. "Good night Sherlock." Sherlock acknowledged his friend with a nod and a wink as he picked up his pyjamas and walked out the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He followed Elle across the hall to their bedroom.

"Want a shower first? Just a quickie?" Elle agreed and they each in turn rinsed down then dried off before getting into bed. Cuddling into one another they were soon sleeping soundly.


	25. Back 'home'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayday! A taste of things to come for the detective's new lifestyle.

May Day Bank Holiday Monday and all seemed right with the world. Elle woke still curled up in the arms of the man she loved so much. She had agreed to move in with him, though her brain felt it was too early her heart wanted it as much as he seemed to. He was delighted. She knew he wanted to tell someone so she suggested he told John and Mary officially. He had mentioned to John he had asked her, and she had sought counsel from Mary before she made her decision.

A bonanza of fruit was on offer for breakfast when Sherlock and Elle made their way down to the kitchen. There was melon, cut into bite-size chunks, grapes, strawberries, blueberries and membrane-free segments of pink grapefruit, all in a bowl in the middle of the table. John was just getting two glasses of orange juice as Elle nodded and a further two glasses were filled. The whole thing was so refreshing. Milk and sugar were already on the table when Mary carried over the coffee and started to pour some into mugs, both Watsons taking milk only, the others no milk but two sugars each.

"We have something to tell you" started Sherlock.

"We have something to say first" interjected John. "We would like to again thank you for last night. It was the most exhilarating experience, and eye-opening, for both of us. We were talking about it again this morning, realising just how much we had enjoyed it."

"You really are sex gurus you know" added Mary. "You could potentially make a much better living out of that than detecting or PR work." 

"I don't think we would be quite so good with anyone else. It is because of our relationship with you two we are able to have so much fun" Elle said, firmly dismissing the obviously jokey consideration for a new direction in her's and Sherlock's careers.

"What was it you were about to say Sherlock?"

"Oh, nothing very important John, I just thought we ought to tell you that Elle has agreed to move into Baker Street with me." He sounded a little sulky as he said it, that childish schoolboy showing himself again, but smiled broadly at his friends realising their comments would probably have never been aired if he had spoken first.

"Wow! That is wonderful news. I am so pleased for you both." Mary jumped up and hugged and kissed Elle, then went over and did the same same to Sherlock as well, positively beaming at both of them. John followed, kissing and embracing Elle first then embracing his best friend.

"I guess this time Mrs Hudson will be right and her new tenant won't be needing the second bedroom!"

Sherlock smiled at his friend. "Mrs Hudson will be right John, Elle won't, but that second room will always be there and available for you and Mary." John nodded an acknowledgement of the open invitation, to stay and always be welcome at Baker Street.

Talking and laughing, just being together as a four in each other's company, was a great way to finish their long weekend at the Watsons. Sherlock and Elle headed back to Baker Street with light hearts and smiles on their faces. Sherlock insisted Elle opened the door to 'her' apartment and she led him through the black door and up the stairs. A note pinned to the flat door from Mrs Hudson said she was around but out with her neighbour, Mrs Turner. Sherlock said he would talk to her tomorrow about the development.

A quick refreshing shower saw the lovers back in their own room. Though tempted to start something in the shower, Sherlock wanted to take their pleasures to bed, kissing and caressing, stimulating themselves for the passionate encounter to come. They quit the shower cubicle and headed there after their usual nighttime routines.

"Make love with me" he murmured smirking, his eyes half closed as he climbed under a top sheet, even the summer-weight duvet was too warm now and had been cast asunder to the floor. British weather!! It had been a very warm day and far in the distance rumbles of thunder could be heard. Elle pushed up the bedroom window, as wide as she could, leaving the curtains nearly fully open, no light on, then glanced around to see a slightly dampened top sheet clinging to the form of Sherlock's badly-towelled body. The thought of a future game flash-bombed into her head.

"The storm seems to be heading this way. I hope it clears the air and makes it feel less humid." She slipped under the sheet next to him, her hand immediately stroking his chest. Her eyes open, dilated, then half closed like his. Her lips on his; her tongue invaded his mouth, touching his tongue, encouraging it to follow the retreat of her own. Deeper and incredibly passionately they kissed and mauled one another with mouths alone. Soft moans emanated from both sides of the kiss as hands and fingers infiltrated the hair of the other and they squirmed and fought to intensify this heady canoodling.

Sherlock forced a roll of their bodies. Lifting his torso slightly off hers using his left arm as a scaffold, his right hand hand brushed down her neck and left shoulder until it rested where he wanted it, cupping and squeezing and gently kneading her left breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple. His body moved down hers so his mouth could engage with her stimulated teat. He sucked unashamedly and longingly, licking ever outwards until his tongue had traversed nearly all of her ample breast. The right one would have its day in the spotlight another time. She, in the meantime, was in rapture, threading her fingers through his hair and planting her hand on the back of his shoulders pressing him against her.

Beaming extensively Sherlock returned to kiss her lips, her neck then lips again, rolling away, lying on his back, eyes open and up towards the ceiling. Elle rolled towards him, admiring the contented smile on his face, and light in his eyes. She returned his kiss. Opening her mouth wide she surrounded his lips with hers then forced his apart with her tongue, engaging his with flicks to encourage him to follow her tongue with his into her mouth again, gorging themselves on more face-based stimulation. He groaned quietly.

"I have more kisses, for your body, if you want them" she whispered. He nodded, not speaking but closing his eyes to give her the freedom to do anything she wanted. A series of short pecks paved her route to her quest, his already stimulated phallus. She planted a kiss on the tip of his cock then proceeded to kiss and or lick every bit of his balls, shaft, then back up to the head which she gripped in teeth-structured lips, which slid along him, pushing his foreskin down, tantalising his glans with her tongue, sliding back up, kissing the tip again then returning deftly, building a rhythm that was steadily but exponentially blowing his mind.

"Stop, stop!" he cried out "unless you want to take me. I'd rather make love with you." He sighed as she released him, returned to pillow level and engaged his lips with hers. She had wanted his ejaculation. Subtlety abandoned she rolled on to her back, he placed his own weight on top of her and pressed himself inside, feeling her muscles contract around him, squeezing him, encouraging the slides, jolts and thrusts within her.

Love making, to him, had gone from an uninteresting hobby of others to one of his own preoccupations, loving loving her and being loved by her. He realised that he was happier than he had ever been, being in her arms, and if that included sensual and stimulating love making too, all the better. He did not regret spending over half his life loveless because now he had a love and passion for a woman he would not have believed possible, that most men would envy, and most women dream of. How lucky was he? Great things come to those who wait, they say. Well, they were right.

A loud crack of thunder caused Elle to flinch then, looking towards the window they noticed more and more lightning flashes; the storm was definitely closing in on their location. Elle wrapped her legs around Sherlock pulling him tightly to her.

"You are not frightened of a storm, are you?" he asked running his hand along the side of her face.

"No!" she replied dismissively. Rain was now rhythmically drumming on the pavement and windows, getting faster, harder.

"Oh, shit, it's turning you on!" She sighed in answer. "Then I think we ought to make something of it." Sherlock threw off the sheet, rolled them to the edge of the bed so he was on his back, then gradually slipped both of them gently to the floor on to the discarded duvet. Rolling again, his position back on top of his girl, kissing her constantly around her face and neck whilst the elements outside roared its power and he drilled his body into hers on the hard unforgiving floor.

Ecstasy enthralled them both as their bodies agonised and energised together. Without a care or concern for anything they made hard, but passionate love to one another, regularly rolling over, pleasuring each other as much as possible, giving rather than taking, as the storm crashed and flashed outside. They had soon rolled completely off the duvet and were now cavorting around on the bedroom carpet, totally indifferent to this new situation. Sherlock then realised with one more full roll together they would be directly under the window sill getting the best of what breath of air was available on this hot sultry night.

The air chilled him as he realised rain too was entering the room lightly and it dusted his skin. Turning over again they were against the wall now, Elle's bare skin uppermost, being delicately splashed by the few raindrops penetrating the open window. Moaning with delight at the refreshing dousing she received, she pressed her hands hard into the floor either side of Sherlock's shoulders and pushed, straightening her arms, hips hard on his, taking herself to orgasm in the process. He grabbed her head through her hair as her arms folded under the pleasure of the moment. He took the opportunity to roll again, away from the window, back on to the duvet, thrusting the last of his energy through his pelvis, she again tightening around him, as a flash of lightning illuminated the room, the thunder crackled only milliseconds later and he climaxed along with her.

Breathing deeply they pulled apart quite quickly for them, Elle stood at the window looking at the severity of the storm, enjoying the straying raindrops hitting her overheated and over-sensitised skin. Sherlock climbed on the bed draping the top sheet across him, still taking deep full breaths to return his heart-rate to normality. He suddenly started to groan, Elle looked over to him. His face seemed calm but his body was wracked with strain. She climbed onto the bed and took his cock into her mouth, sucking him, caressing him with her tongue. He came again. Now the tension in his frame started to dissipate and he relaxed. As her mouth released him, she took its contents up to his mouth and gave him a taste of himself, she swallowing the majority. A promise from her birthday fulfilled. She then moved down the bed slightly to rest her head on his chest, her left arm and leg crooked across him, breathing deeply yet again. "What do you think?"

"Yes, quite salty! At least I know now. Thanks for the rescue."

"Anytime - think nothing of it. I love to feel you come in my mouth." With the sheet up to Elle's chest, just above Sherlock's hips, they fell asleep. The storm had moved away, as though it had peered into the window to observe the lovers and their frolicking, then passed by and onwards. It was still raining but a pitter-patter had replaced the war-like drumming of before. The air felt cleansed and cooler, at last.


	26. New job, surprise proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invitation is opened to others

Over the next week Sherlock was busy with Lestrade and John on a complicated investigation of dual identity and murder. Sherlock was again in his element enjoying being involved on such a dastardly case, working alongside his best friend, talking freely and openly about his new lifestyle at Baker Street. Sherlock told John how delighted Mrs Hudson was to learn of Elle agreeing to move in permanently, not that things changed much as she was there nearly all the time anyway. Elle was pursuing a job hunt for a PR role with true intent now, sending out CVs and contacting people she knew from her previous incarnation. Some previous clients from the days she worked with Michelson had already said they would like to be on her books again if she got into another PR agency - or considered starting one up - and they were happy for her to use their names as transferring clients if necessary. 

Luck was on her side and she found the perfect position for her - strange hours (with some evening commitments), but the role suited her. The interview and conversations with her new work colleagues clarified it was the right position for her and, true to their word, three of her previous clients immediately moved to her new agency once she was confirmed. Indeed, four of her more esteemed clients had moved to that agency on the closure of Michelson's old company and had made noises on Elle's behalf as a potential asset prior to this and they re-joined her list too. She would start work again after the Spring Bank Holiday week.

Elle and Sherlock had just finished enjoying an evening meal together, discussing calling his parents to confirm their visit that weekend, when his mobile rang and he found his mother on the other end. He was pleased to confirm everything was still on and he and Elle would be driving over to them some time Friday evening, after dinner. Then there was a surprising offer. Though Mycroft would be around during Friday and some of Saturday, he had been invited to spend the rest of the break at Chequers (the official residence of the Prime Minister) and had, of course, accepted. It meant that he would be there to meet Elle properly but would not be around all holiday so his mother suggested that Sherlock invite John and Mary to come and stay as well, if they had no other plans. Sherlock said he would get back to her once discussing the proposal.

Elle loved the idea - she found meeting Sherlock's family daunting and would be happier with friends around her so Sherlock rang John and put the offer to him. He spoke off-phone to Mary and they both agreed. They would meet at Baker Street on Thursday, meaning they would all travel together to Kew, stay overnight there then go on to Hampshire some time Friday evening. Sherlock called his mother to confirm John and Mary would be joining them, thanked her for the invitation on their behalf and said he would see them Friday evening. Elle texted her house mates to say John and Mary would be joining the party also.

"My parents are not monsters, you know."

"I know" Elle replied when Sherlock was teasing her. "It's just I feel I am going on an 'acceptance into the family fold' visit, you know, on approval, and feel a little intimidated and frankly worried."

"When they see how much I love you they will accept you with open arms. They will just be relieved you are actually real. Other than that, the fact one of their sons has a girlfriend will be more than a thrill for my parents."

"God, Sherlock, they are not going to be looking at me as their grand-children producer are they?" 

"No. I doubt they would be expecting grandkids any time soon, and if they are, I will explain our situation. I have never wanted children or been in any scenario where it was likely. If you can accept that love has put you again involved with someone who works closely with the police after your situation with Kris, I can more than accept, and therefore they will have to, that my lady and I are going to grow old together, child-free but loving one another more everyday."

"That was a lovely thing to say. Thank you Sherlock, and sorry for my crudeness. It has played on my mind ever since their initial invitation."

Sherlock hesitated. "The word 'marriage' may come up, especially as John and Mary will be there now and they had met John before he married." He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Well, I will try not to squirm too much, just don't confirm or deny anything."

"Perhaps now is not the time to ask but it would be nice to know your thoughts on marriage."

"Are you proposing?"

"No. Not..."

"Good" Elle interjected. "When the time is right Sherlock, you will know, I will know, and you will ask and I will answer. [She kissed him softly.] Let's leave it there for now." At least now Sherlock knew she had thought about it and was not refusing him outright. He had hinted he had thought about asking her before but felt it too soon in their relationship, though he knew he wanted her permanently in his life.


	27. Q3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to London's suburbia to fulfil a carrot-dangling promise!

Thursday came and Elle reminded Mrs Hudson that she and Sherlock were visiting Sherlock's family, and that they may be away for the whole holiday week. Sherlock had explained the situation to Lestrade and said after the Wednesday, if they had a very interesting case he could call him, but not before. It was important to him his family could spend time with Elle.

Elle and Sherlock talked happily and openly together whilst they pulled together everything they needed for potentially more than a week away. Elle was trying to decide when would be right to mention she intended to live with Sherlock to her house mates. He said he was sure the most appropriate moment would avail itself naturally. She also had something she needed to broach with Sherlock, about sleeping arrangements during their stay at both Kew and Hampshire.

She wondered how Sherlock felt about the possibility of making love to her under his parents' roof. He explained he had already put his argument to his father about them sharing when he spoke to him about their stay previously so hoped they would make love with impunity, and now, the spare bedroom was going to be occupied by John and Mary. Pleased he had mentioned them she also spoke about something she felt she ought to say to the Watsons but wanted to speak to him about first. After explaining, Sherlock said he was happy for her to make the suggestion.

Bags were packed and Mary and John arrived late morning as there was no case for the boys that day and neither Watson was on duty at the Clinic. They prepared lunch and sat talking in the kitchen with a bottle of red wine and very tasty lasagne, made by Mary and Elle together. All of a sudden Elle smiled and had that something on her mind to say.

"John, you met Kaye and Em very briefly, at the same time as Sherlock did, but Mary hasn't and none of you have met Ben and Tony. I think I'd better give you a little heads up. [They all looked at her expectantly, Sherlock calm.] They have a very close relationship, like we do, though, actually, even closer, physically anyway. [This was difficult to explain out loud but better they know now, she thought.] Although Ben is Em's partner and Tony Kaye's I learned, a long time ago, that they have a very intimate relationship between the four of them. They swap partners. They are very open about their sexuality, just so you know."

"Did they ever invite you to join them, you know, before you knew Sherlock?" asked John tentatively.

"My girl friends intimated at that possibility, yes, but I wasn't interested, especially bearing in mind Tony had been my last 'cup of coffee date'."

"What is a 'cup of coffee date'?" asked Mary.

"I'll explain later" interjected Sherlock. "You didn't say you had been out with Tony."

"Only for dinner, and coffee, as I said, and he got on much, I mean, a LOT better with my house mate than he did with me. He and Kaye booked a local hotel room for the following night, not wanting to invite him into our home under the circumstances. They have been a couple ever since."

"They are very open you say. They are not likely to start cavorting around in front of us are they? Is that why you are giving us the 'heads up' as you called it?" There was slight panic in Mary's voice.

"No. They won't. I'm giving you the heads up because they will not turn a hair, for instance, if we all suddenly head into my wet room together... [they all looked at one another, remembering Elle's promise of nearly a month ago] or, if rather than sleeping on the top floor in the spare bedroom, which can be ludicrously hot in summer, you and John share a bed with Sherlock and me."

"Wow" sighed John. "So there is your dangling carrot again. And an offer to stay in the room where you and Sherlock first made love."

"It is not a shrine John!" Elle said with a slight giggle in her voice, eyes twinkling.

"I like the sound of your friends. All of them." John grinned towards Elle then Mary.

"No need to decide yet. I just wanted to give you the option, so you don't feel awkward should we all head off upstairs and peel into the same room. It is more than likely they will all be in one bed tonight."

"Would you like us to sleep with you then?" Mary asked cautiously.

"Yes. Why not?" responded Sherlock. "We can share some more bedtime fun together, then actually stay. There should be more than enough space to physically sleep together. You two are tiny [he had always wanted to say something about his friends' physical size] and Elle and I only take up the space of one person as we inevitably sleep nearly on top of one another - she usually on me" he clarified unnecessarily.

"You are not suggesting we move our relationship forward to be like theirs, are you?" Mary queried.

"No" Elle answered. "I think we already have the perfect relationship for us. It is exhilarating when the four of us are together but I don't think we should consider partner-swapping."

"None taken" said John, winking knowing his response would get a reaction from both girls, and possibly Sherlock as well. Mary had looked stunned at his words.

"It is not that I don't fancy you John" Elle was determined to make her position known, "I have grown to adore both you and Mary, but I only want to share myself completely with Sherlock. And anyway, you two have crossed a boundary, being married. It would not just be illicit, it would officially be adulterous!"

"I am happy with our relationship where it is, but am still more than willing to share a bed with both you and Sherlock, if Mary is?" Mary nodded assent at her husband's words.

"That settles it then. You two will sleep with Elle and I tonight. There will definitely be no chance of anything like that for the rest of the week at my parents!"

"Do you have anything in mind for tonight Elle?" John asked.

"No, nothing. As yet."

"Good. We have, but we will surprise you later."

"Oh. Now I am intrigued."

"Me too" Sherlock added winking.

"Better straighten things out here first then we will get that taxi for Kew you guys were so keen on about a month ago after my original 'dangling of the carrot' as Mary called it." Elle looked around at them all. It seemed finally her offer was going to come to fruition.

Lunch finished, pots cleared to the sink and hand-washed. There were not enough to load the dishwasher, and as they were going to be away, potentially for eight or nine days, Mary washed, John and Sherlock dried and Elle put away, clearing and cleaning as she went.

There was very little else to do. Sherlock and Elle had already sorted their bags for overnight and the visit to his parents, John's and Mary's were waiting in the hall. Elle had already spoken with Mrs Hudson about their trip, but Sherlock called to see his landlady briefly before the four friends headed out of Baker Street, and climbed into the back of a black cab heading for Kew.

It was just before 4pm when the four friends alighted from their cab and Elle gave Sherlock his first opportunity to use his new door key, given him a month ago. They all walked in, Sherlock beaming broadly, recalling that first time together as he crossed the threshold into this house. Elle found a note from Em to say they would hopefully see them around 6 that evening. After cold drinks Elle got her three guests to follow her upstairs, leaving all their bags on the first floor landing and visiting the second. One of her house mates had obviously thought about John and Mary staying and thrown open the window and door for the spare bedroom, but it was stifling up there and unlikely to lose much of that residual heat over the next seven hours or so. At least the option was there should the Watsons change their mind about sharing.

As the others made their way downstairs Sherlock disappeared into Elle's bedroom, then returned to the lounge, looking triumphant. When asked what he had been doing, he opened his hand. There in his palm was a tiny electronic bugging device. This was the first time since before Elle's birthday and that infuriating memo from his brother they had been back to Kew. "Just in case, now you have said yes to our proposition, I wanted to make sure this was gone. I checked the other lamp too."

"You really don't trust Mycroft that much do you?" Elle enquired.

"No, not much! I just want us to feel we have total freedom if we are all going to be in the same bed."

The four of them sat in the lounge drinking coffee, talking. Sherlock later threw the bug he had crushed underfoot in the outside bin and had not long closed the door behind him, saying how hot and close it still was outside when a key in the lock flagged the arrival of Emma and Kaye from work. Elle rose from her seat and ran to greet her house mates. The girls all embraced and exchanged kisses on the cheeks before Elle led her friends to meet the other guests. John and Mary shook hands with Kaye and Em after introductions but Sherlock gave each of the girls a small peck on the cheek.

General chit-chat about food initially ensued, then hearty congratulations for Elle and questions about her new job. Conversation was again disrupted by the arrival of Tony around 6:30pm. After intros all round and a big hug to Elle, he confirmed to Em that Ben had texted to say he was running late so that is why they were not on the same Underground train from the City. Em too had received a text to say he was on his way but about 40 minutes behind normal. Sherlock noticed Tony had a foreign accent; either very soft American, but more likely Canadian.

By the time Ben arrived home just after 7:15pm (he had met an old colleague on the Tube and had walked part of the way nattering, and obviously slower than his usual pace), he was introduced to a very relaxed group of friends by his girlfriend, Em. After Ben's entrance a Chinese takeaway of substantial proportions was ordered and the table prepared for eight friends to sit and dine together. All went upstairs, four to change from work clothes to casuals and freshen up, whilst the other four took their bags into Elle's room, refreshed in turn in her very bright wet room ["Nice shower" commented John] and descended into the lounge.

A couple of bottles of wine on the table and a fabulous assortment of dishes and the eight sat talking around the table until nearly 10pm. Rubbish discarded, pots stacked in the dishwasher, alcoholic beverages for all - Ben on 'barman' duties once Em described his skills at making Gin and Tonics, so Gins for all (with Elle having Bitter Lemon) except John, who had asked for a Scotch instead - the group squished into a lounge quite happily, laughing, talking and analysing each other.

Elle had automatically sat on the floor in front of the settee, as she so often did even when the place was nearly empty and regularly did at Baker Street when Sherlock stretched out, but was surprised as Sherlock lowered himself next to her instead of taking space on the sofa. His arm draped casually around her shoulders, they clinked glasses, shared a delicate kiss, and interacted with the others, unfazed by the fact they were so obviously the centre of attention for the whole group. Whatever the conversation, wherever it was leading, the direction always seemed to return to Elle, Sherlock, or both. This fact was not lost on the newest couple, but they did not mind or comment.

Elle started to stretch, twisting herself elegantly, rolling her head, then reaching for her ankles and pulling herself flat along her legs. Sherlock without even thinking rubbed her back and she sighed loudly and gratefully.

"Are you ok? You feel tense."

"I'm feeling a bit tight in my neck and shoulders. I think I was in a draught on the cab journey here, sitting directly behind the driver."

"We have a near expert masseuse living here" said Em. "Unfortunately it is you, so you're out of luck." Elle laughed at her friend's words.

"I have not mastered how to massage my own neck and shoulders, in fact I'm not even sure you can. Shame that."

"I'll try, if you like?" Sherlock offered his services. He put his and her drinks on a side table, sat on the settee where they were leaning, spread his knees, Elle twisted up her hair, keeping it in place temporarily with a pencil, thrown over by Emma, which was caught without looking, John's jaw dropping in recognition of a feat previously witnessed performed by Sherlock. Sherlock loosened her clothes around her collar and gradually started to massage and knead her neck and shoulders. It was nowhere near as good as she knew she could do if the roles were reversed, but it was relieving some of the tension, which is what she wanted as it felt it could easily develop into a headache if left unchecked.

Fascinated, the room in conversation, watched and admired the curl of her smile as his hands played on her skin, irrespective of how efficient his massage was. Ten minutes later and he had actually managed to release most of her tension. She stood, downed the end of her Gin, retrieved the pencil, then headed upstairs towards her wet room, the others still talking. Literally only seconds after she was out of sight Sherlock was twitching and followed her upstairs, finding her sitting on her bed. He quietly closed then locked the door.

"Could I try something else to help you feel better?" he whispered, sitting beside her, planting a significant kiss on her lips, cradling her head between his hands, slipping his tongue softly into her mouth. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned back so their bodies found mattress. "Hello bed" smiled Sherlock, again remembering their first and then other occasions of love making in this room.

Kissing continually his hand found its way up her blouse, both hers inside his shirt. Their lips parted and eyes met, hugely dilated from the pair of them. She unbuttoned his shirt then undid his jeans, inching down her hand so it could caress his clothed cock. Lovingly and precisely she rubbed his form, stimulating him, receiving a great sigh from him. She released her touch as her lips engaged his and his hands unbuttoned and removed her blouse, then bra, sucking hard on a nipple, then undid her jeans...

Conversation was still fluent downstairs. Mary and John seemed very relaxed with Elle's friends and quite understood how they all got on so well together. One thing Mary wanted to know. "You three girls have known each other a long time. Who was it again who met Elle first and how long ago? I am sure she told us but I cannot remember."

"I did" replied Emma. "I met her over seven years ago now."

"That means you must have known her last proper boyfriend, Kris?" Mary enquired.

"Knew him? Of course. It was Kris who introduced Elle and me. Elle was renting, paying through the nose as you do, and decided she would rather use her capital and buy. I was looking for somewhere to live in Greater London and wanted a house share. Kris introduced us. At the time, they were just friends."

"Could you tell us about him?" John asked. "Elle has said very little. We know he was in the police and passed away in America."

"Kris was a Special Forces constable, sniper division. He was killed whilst on secondment in the US certifying his elite sniper credentials. Elle obviously has not told you about my relationship with Kris?"

"No. Were you lovers first?" Mary blurted out, surprised by the use of the word 'relationship'. However, Sherlock and they had only just learned Tony had been out once with Elle before building a true relationship with Kaye.

"Lovers? No. Kris was my twin brother. It was whilst he was based in London I looked for work to join him here. Kris suggested me to Elle as a tenant if she bought property. He was always going on about his great friend Elle, and I asked him why they were not more than friends, and he couldn't give a good answer. In the end, he asked Elle out and eventually they started to match up properly. Elle and I became the closest of friends very quickly, then each other's rocks after Kris's death." 

John and Mary looked shocked. They had no idea Emma was related to Kris, never mind his twin. They both immediately wondered whether Sherlock knew. "We are so sorry. We did not know."

Finally Elle felt relaxed; her body in the arms of the man she loved so much, all her closest friends enjoying the company of one another. Suddenly a rash of guilt came across her. She and Sherlock had been distracted by his massaging of her shoulders and neck into love making, whilst all those other people she cared for so dearly, and some she had not seen in months or weeks, entertained themselves downstairs. They refreshed themselves, re-dressed quickly and returned, trying to look innocent, to the group in the lounge.

Sherlock re-sat on the sofa, with Elle settling on the floor again, head against his knee, he playing subconsciously with her hair.

"Sherlock, what time are your parents expecting you tomorrow?" enquired Kaye.

"After dinner sometime. We said we would eat then make our way over. We don't want to get caught in too much traffic, though Elle said she was not worried, as she loves driving. Thanks for the car this week, by the way."

"Have you two met Sherlock's family? We know Elle hasn't." Kaye continued, aiming her question in the direction of the Watsons.

"I have" replied John, "but the last time I saw them was over three years ago, before I met Mary. We have all met his brother, Mycroft, of course. He will be there over some of the weekend too."

"Mary, are you as nervous as Elle, meeting Sherlock's family?" Tony unsubtly enquired.

"I doubt it, but then again, I am meeting a friend's family not potentially prospective in-laws, and known to be shagging their son."

"Thanks Mary" Elle smarted. "That makes me feel SO much better about the situation." They all laughed at her expense, Sherlock stroked the top of her arm.

"They will love you, I'm sure. They are probably as trepidatious at meeting you, and still disbelieving of your existence until they finally physically see you." They all laughed again, at Sherlock this time.

It was rapidly closing in on midnight. Elle looked across towards the Watsons, catching John's eye, and winked. He winked back. "Shower and bed I think. [Elle spoke as she stood up, walked over to Em and hugged her.] God it is good to see you again."

"Just don't leave it so long next time before you come home. We've missed you."

"Talking of home... [Elle took a deep breath] Emma, Kaye, I need to talk to you." She looked nervous, Sherlock thought, knowing what his lady was about to say.

"You don't want to sell the house, do you?" Em asked, a crackle of fear and emotion in her voice.

"No, of course not. Why did you ask that?" Elle responded, and Em sighed in relief.

"Well, you are moving into Baker Street more permanently with Sherlock, aren't you?"

Elle again threw her arms around her best friend's neck. "For God's sake, Em, how did you know?" 

"It is written all over your's and Sherlock's faces. He could barely breathe when you went upstairs earlier. Kaye and I tried to guess how long it would take him to follow you. We both over-estimated greatly!"

"That obvious, huh?" smiled Sherlock. 

"Gosh, I was expecting this to be difficult. I don't intend to sell the house, no."

"Assuming you are happy for Em and I to remain as tenants, we will look after the place, keeping things as they are, allowing you freedom to live in Central London, where obviously your heart is." Kaye smiled after her words, glancing towards Sherlock, and Elle hugged her too.

"You two are really uncanny sometimes. It is probably a good thing I am leaving, you read me like a book. I thought you might be upset at me moving out, officially, I mean?"

"No" responded Em. "We have recently and will continue to miss you, but knew after we met you at Harrods it would only be a matter of time. We are really happy for the two of you. Don't be strangers though. Kew suits you both. Oh, and just a word to the wise Elle: if you decide to disappear upstairs for a friendly fondle, make sure you do your shirt buttons up correctly." Em grinned at her friend, the rest of the room stared at Elle.

Elle flushed then looked down - had she been trapped by her own guilt? "They are done correctly!"

"Yes, they are now, but they weren't when you arrived here, or went upstairs!"

"Oh, shit!" Everyone including Sherlock and Elle laughed, Elle flushing even more. She sat down on the floor next to Sherlock's knee, draping an arm over his legs, he squeezing her hand.

"We thought you would move in with Sherlock, we just hoped you would not want to sell here."

"I doubt I will ever want to sell. It holds too many memories for all of us, and new ones to come, I hope. I love this place... but... I love Sherlock more and we want to be together, and that will mean mainly Baker Street." Sherlock's chest heaved. She had said she loved him, privately to him, on countless occasions, but now the words slipped from her lips so easily in front of all their closest friends. He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek.

"What time shall we plan to have breakfast? We are all on annual leave tomorrow" said Ben.

"Oh, that's great news Ben. I thought you would have all disappeared to work by the time we rose. I was dreading the good night and goodbye moment. How about 9:30?" Ben nodded agreement to Elle's suggestion.

"Sounds good to us" Em confirmed to Elle after receiving other nods of approval.

Sherlock rose off the settee, pulled Elle up from the floor, and the two lovers walked over to the married couple and heaved them out the single chair they had been sharing so closely and quietly together. Good night wishes all around and the Baker Street clan headed upstairs.

Sherlock, Mary and John followed Elle into her bedroom, the bed again all neatly made. Elle closed the curtains and turned on the side light to its lowest setting. They all found their robes, stripped and changed into them before heading in twos into the wet room. Mary and John went first, teeth cleaning etc before leaving the way for Sherlock and Elle, who did the same, finally them re-opening the door to allow their friends to return.

"I thought you said your bathroom, well wet room, was softly lit?" stated John. Elle reached outside the door, turned the shower extractor system on then rotated a knob anti-clockwise to dim the LED ceiling spots. One click above "off" and the lights were very low, soft and romantic. 

"Better?" Elle enquired as she closed and locked the door behind her then reached into the cubicle and turned on the huge rainfall shower. She kissed John's cheek. He smirked broadly, glancing at his wife and friend who were also smiling, Sherlock with a knowing lift in the eyebrow having experienced this room previously. The shower was up to temperature and robes were dropped as the four of them went in and closed the glass door behind them, standing under the head as it soaked them all. In seconds Sherlock had leaned Elle against the tiles, stimulating her mouth with sensual kissing, rubbing his naked wet body against her; the Watsons were doing exactly the same.

The couples took it in turns to be under the main head, the secondary hand shower being used to keep the alternate pair under the water's tepid flow when not under the rainfall. Body-washing and generally touching and stroking each other led to more kissing against the tiles, even swapping so John was with Elle and Mary with Sherlock momentarily. After thorough rinsing and cooling of their bodies the shower was turned off, clean towels passed around, robes distributed back to their owners, and the four of them headed for Elle's room again after she turned off the extractor and set the lighting to a normal night level then off.

A deep male groan was heard when the friends were in the hall, so at least some members of Kew branch were obviously well ahead of the damp Baker Street group.

Robes off in a pile on a different floor and into bed, the four friends were sat up, Elle on one side, Mary on the other and the two boys between. Elle used the elbow room space to plait her wet hair and band it for the night. "What have you got in mind for us then?" she enquired.

"Nothing" smiled John. "We knew the thought would turn you two on so we just said it to get you started. We just want you to make love to one another, whatever you want, and we will do the same and just enjoy being near each other again."

"In that case..." Elle slithered straight down the bed provocatively licking her lips, totally conscious of the fact the other two would be watching, and wrapped her mouth around Sherlock's cock and started sucking, hard. Then with less urgency she caressed him with her tongue, eyes closed, moaning to herself, enjoying the freedom parameters their relationship with the Watsons allowed. Sherlock groaned loudly. She was toying with him, tight and loosened grips were now incorporated in her play, no sliding, not a hand job as such, but pumping him, stimulating him to an extreme high, using her lips to tantalise him.

Another moan but this time from the other side of the bed. John was on top of his wife, missionary style, and they were in full swing. Elle released Sherlock and relaxed fleetingly with her head on his stomach, watching the others. Sherlock ran his fingers through her damp fringe and she looked at him, seeing desirous lust in his eyes. 

She moved up the bed and took him inside her. He rocked from underneath her, but it was her that wanted more, a lot more. Lying against him she began moving her body up and down, steadily at first, then quicker, and deeply too.

He always said he would never hurt her, but she wanted that pain/pleasure combination and, having the controls, knew she could get it. Suddenly she let out a wounded squeal: his hard erect phallus, thick with blood, was pressed against her G-spot causing a mix of the two feelings she craved so. She repeated the movement with the same reaction, without the squeal this time, and realised his position must be absolutely perfect as she started to ratchet up the feeling by increasing the speed and how tight her internal muscles were. She could not help it, she was whimpering now, but had no intention of slackening off the pace or stopping. Getting faster and faster she was torturing herself using him. Pain was outweighing the pleasure now but she was loving every moment. Orgasm beset her as she rubbed herself ever harder upon him.

The Watsons had gone quiet: from full flight themselves they had switched right off and paused to watch Elle as she took full advantage of being on top of Sherlock, pounding his erection as though him coming could save the world. Crying out loud, now on every stroke up and down, her inner walls pulsed as they throttled the strength and seed out of him. Sherlock was silent, but breathing very heavily. His slightly pained expression changed to one of absolute ecstasy. 

Her movements decreased to a caressive kneading sensation, a much shorter and softer rhythm as she started to breathe naturally again. She lifted her head slightly and gazed into the eyes of her man, whose focus was steadily returning. She gathered his lips with hers and kissed them intensely, sucking gently on his lower lip, then kissing his mouth with tiny breathless touches with her own. She then rested her head on his left shoulder.

He smiled and let his neck relax, his head flopping over to the right, seeing his best friend, again now in full flight with his wife. Sherlock took a surprising amount of pleasure out of watching the Watsons, having shared bed time with them now on numerous occasions but not actually watched attentively before. Elle was now the silent one. He could barely hear her breathe, but could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his. Sherlock realised, even after such a pounding, his body was about to give an encore. Wary she would probably be sore he found himself in a quandary, but as her eyes met his she smiled, obviously forewarned by feeling the build-up of his second wave, and gave him an infinitesimal nod.

Fluently expediting the perfect two-body position swap Sherlock positioned himself on top of Elle. John and Mary had just climaxed themselves and, though heavy breathing ensued from them, they had quietened down and were cuddling each other happily, now becoming the voyeurs. Sherlock took his weight on his arms and began as long a strokes as his body would allow within Elle. Long, but gentle and slow, his moves were exact, erotic and exquisite. Incredibly deep with every stroke, a gasp from her, not of pain but surprise as he nearly withdrew each time then returned again, he was lapping up the energy this additional erection was supplying. He could feel himself getting close to climax again but his body felt no need to increase its speed. Elle sighed, a smile of total exultation lit her face as she looked into Sherlock's as his second wind culminated in one huge euphoric expulsion, him releasing an extremely loud groan along with more seed.

He used what was left of his strength to control a half-roll, the pair lying on their sides, just kissing and stroking one another. They rolled further so Sherlock was again underneath. Both sighed dramatically.

Once again John slipped to type. Gazing into Elle's eyes the doctor asked "Are you all right?"

"Yes, John, fine thanks. I'm sorry. I had Sherlock just where I wanted and lost control. I'm going to be tender but I don't care. That was incredible" (the last three words aimed at her lover).

"And do you always get a second orgasm now, and able to come again?" he asked his friend.

"Not always, some are dry, but it is becoming quite regular."

"But you took yourself off so slowly..."

"I don't think it would have been seemly to pound my way through it after what Elle had done. I guessed from the sensations I was receiving she was going to be sore, but I knew if I stayed slow I could go deep, really deep, and it worked. [He twisted Elle's braided hair in his finger tips.] You were more than sensational. OK?" Elle nodded, not needing to respond with anything more, except a soft kiss planted on his chest. He was such a gentleman!

Unexpectedly Sherlock said "You seemed to stop mid-flight John, picking up again later?" demonstrating he really had been watching his friends closely.

"Yes. You and Elle were just too interesting to watch. I seemed to be able to calm down for a while then start up again."

"God, I can't. Quite early on I can take myself out of it, mentally and physically if necessary, but after that, no way."

Each couple took it in turns to go the wet room to freshen up again. When Elle and Sherlock went, Elle returned slightly after Sherlock with two carafes and glass covers of ice water, one for either side of the bed in case they were needed overnight. The couples snuggled down. Mary was on the outer edge of the bed with her husband curled spoon-fashion behind her. Sherlock drank some of their water immediately then adjusted himself so he was flat on his back near the other bed edge, Elle in the middle, her weight on her left hip, her right arm and leg draped over him, her head on his chest. Sherlock stretched an arm to turn off the light, the room now pitch black the two couples drifted into sleep.

Sherlock stirred. It was still dark and it sounded as though it was raining again. Hard. He then knew what had woken him. Elle seemed attuned to the rain, moaning sweetly, its rhythm turning her on as that stormy night had recently. He manoeuvred her a bit further across the bed, placed himself on top of her and started stroking her pubis whilst kissing her neck.

"Take me" she whispered.

"Are you sure? Aren't you still sore?"

"I'm guessing I will be tender for a few days but I'm not abstaining. There is no way I can go that long without you."

His index finger went on checking duty and found her moist though evidently was tender as she flinched as it entered her. He seemed almost reticent to fulfil her wish, but could not resist. He lined himself up squarely over her and pushed himself inside as carefully as he could, she sighing. Gentle rocking, dozens of kisses exchanged, they made love together. No intention of pushing hard through to orgasm they just enjoyed the pleasures of being together, caressing each other until falling asleep, wrapped within each other's arms, and legs.

Just a couple of hours later Elle started to wake again. Sherlock was still on top of her, still inside her, exorbitantly hard and moving gingerly up and down within her. She woke gradually, pushing the sheet off them towards the middle of the bed so the tension did not disturb John and Mary, then wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him. Awoken with sex, biting into his shoulder to keep herself quiet she felt him start moving more frenetically, unable to not react to a very early morning glory! Kissing her mouth and neck feverishly he took himself and her to a near silent simultaneous climax, finally rolling off her, back to the edge of the bed, she again draping her right limbs across him, both taking a draught of cold water from the carafe before falling back to sleep within the cradling of each other's arms.

Light seeped around her curtains and Elle woke to find herself much further down the bed than where she had fallen asleep. Her head was on Sherlock's stomach, her mouth close to his navel. Sherlock's low rumbling breathing confirmed he was fast asleep. She ran her hand up the outside of his left thigh to his hip bone, across the front of his pelvis, finding his semi-erect phallus, resting towards his left hip. Resistance was futile. Using her index and middle fingers on her right hand she steered his glans towards her mouth and started to lick, suck and kiss him covetously, quietly moaning as she enjoyed the pleasure.

A hand stroked her head: Sherlock was awake, encouraging her to go deeper. She controlled her kisses and licks of his form, until she felt him gorge with blood and his physical transformation was near completion. She let her tongue start at his root, then glide up to the tip where she caressed his foreskin with her tongue then went down his shaft with her mouth, sucking as she went, opening her mouth, erotically lip squeezing his cock progressively before deep throating him, something she had not done for a while. He groaned loudly, very loudly. Not only was it loud enough to wake John and Mary in bed with them, but also disturb Elle's friends in the other bedroom, and probably half the avenue. Unfortunately they seemed to have become oblivious to all things except one another. 

He helped pull her up the bed, breathing erratically, wanting to lie her directly over him, wanting to take her, when a sound and movement from John made the pair remember they were not actually in a world of their own. "Are you two at it again? What time is it?" John asked, obviously still groggy, grumpy and mostly asleep.

"Twenty to eight" replied Sherlock, looking at his mobile. "Go back to sleep John. Sorry."

"Can't we join you instead?" asked Mary.

"Of course. What do you want to do?"

"Move over towards the middle of the bed, you two. [Mary gave the directions as she got out of the bed and walked around to the other side, slipping back under the sheet] This." With Elle still lying with her head around Sherlock's shoulder, Mary planted a tender kiss on his lips; then John did the same, then the pair of them started to cover Sherlock's face, neck, chest, even arms, with kisses, occasionally leaning across him to kiss Elle or one another. Mary looked at Elle and winked. The second woman needed no further instruction. Sliding back down the bed she concentrated her attention on his lower body, stroking his inner thigh whilst taking his cock in her mouth and again giving a virtuoso performance. This was slow though, giving the Watsons plenty of time to play their delightfully wicked kissing and touching game on Sherlock this time.

Sherlock's eyes were tightly closed though his face relaxed. Every time one of the Watsons kissed him he responded passionately. They took it in turns to take his lips, whilst their hands continually stroked him and Elle blew his mind. He was not totally aware of exactly what Elle was doing as John and Mary were such a distraction. Then he groaned loudly as Elle deep throated him yet again. Now all his thoughts were with her as he realised he was close to orgasm. Mary slipped slightly down the bed, her lips engaging his left nipple, her hand stroking and ringing his right, Sherlock's left hand stroked up her naked back and through her short hair as she glided her body across his torso to now engage his right teat instead, her own firmed nipples pressed on him.

John ran his fingers through his best friend's hair before taking charge of an extremely deep and erotic kiss between the two men. Sherlock's right hand pressed on the back of John's head, keeping their mouths together, conveying once and for all his pleasure at this to the second man. He began to shake. Elle was working more than magic on him further down the bed and had achieved her aim.

Understanding the throbbing sensation between her lips, she felt Sherlock ejaculate. She sucked hard, taking all the seed he released. She could feel the pulsing of his cock as it pumped the liquid out of him into her moist and enticing mouth. Even through John's kiss the loudness of Sherlock's groan was undisguised. Strain became relaxation as his arm wrapped around John's neck, his other hand still in Mary's hair. When he felt the latter move, he released John's kiss and looked up. Mary and Elle kissed gently, then John moved in and kissed Elle too. Finally his lover's lips found his own and he was shocked. A tiny amount of his seed activated his tastebuds. They had each taken the flavour of him.

"Oh, shit!" he cried as realisation flooded over him. He closed his eyes. First Mary then John then Elle each kissed him. He responded to none, still disbelieving what they had just done. 

Sherlock thought it would probably happen but had hoped it wouldn't, but hoping never stops anything and he knew he could feel a second orgasm building within him. He found Elle's hand, got her body flat on the bed, climbed on to and into her in moments, drove his body within her goodness knows how many times, but quickly, fucking her, not considering her tenderness now, not considering their company or sound levels, thrusting his way to this second climax. He took her lips in his own, giving her the deepest kiss as she orgasmed slightly behind him. 

Just over a minute later, Sherlock clambered off the bed from between the other bodies, grabbed the first robe his hand came to off the floor, wrapped it around his waist and headed to the next room to the left. Elle and the Watsons followed him at a pace, also collecting a random robe each, Elle flicking on the extractor before entering the shower room, closing and locking the door behind her. Sherlock was already in the shower, under the rainfall, face upwards, eyes closed. John slipped into the shower with him first as Elle unbraided her hair: it needed washing after last night.

"Sherlock, are you ok? We just all wanted to make love to you." John sounded concerned but as Sherlock's face came forward and his eyes found those of his friend, he smiled meekly then embraced him, hugging him close and kissing his lips gently under the falling water, their naked bodies brushing together.

"I think you two had better get in here before we do something we might regret." A smile burst across Sherlock's face as Elle and Mary quickly entered the cubicle, to find themselves being quickly entered too: touching each other like that had turned both the boys on. Sherlock and Elle soon settled into their favourite shower position with her legs wrapped around his hips, the wall taking the strain with him. John and Mary leaned against the tiles, taking it in turns to be the controller and the pinned, easy when height difference is not so discernible. 

The water was set at a reasonably cool refreshing summer temperature but the cubicle steamed up nonetheless. Then something totally unexpected happened: the four climaxed together. After a lot of roaring, groaning, pumping and sighing, laughter ensued as they worked in continual rotation to move mainly under the rainfall head and rinse shampoo, conditioner, body wash and sex off themselves. 

Elle was first out, wrapped herself in a clean towel, another around her head then went out the wet room, returning seconds later with an armful of clean dry towels, including a pair of lovely dark green ones Sherlock recognised. Elle handed out the towels, keeping the green ones for Sherlock, winking, knowing he had remembered their first adventure in there.

Intensive drying of feet enabled them to return to the bedroom to dry properly and dress. Noises from another bedroom made the Baker Street group aware Kew branch were awake and having fun of their own. "I'd have loved to have seen you in the robe you picked up Sherlock" said John with a crackle of laughter in his voice once back in the bedroom. "I guess you hadn't realised it was Mary's?"

"No, I just knew I needed to go and cool off quickly before I blew a fuse. I didn't see which robe I had selected. It would have looked ridiculous, if I could get it on at all. I just didn't want to risk one of Elle's friends seeing me dashing to the wet room naked. Thanks for ganging up on me this time! Your idea I am guessing?" Sherlock looked at Elle.

"Not guilty I'm afraid. More than happy to play my part but not my idea at all."

"We said we wanted to do it if we got half a chance. John and me. Sorry Sherlock" Mary confessed.

"No problem. I loved it, well, most of it. Who on Earth thought of spreading my seed around? I can't believe you did that?"

"Me" replied Mary again but quickly explained, "but that was spur of the moment, not planned. I knew from your reaction you had ejaculated, then I was suddenly curious and kissed Elle before she had chance to swallow. John followed intrigued. I guess you have tasted it before?"

"Yes, once. Oh well. [Finally Sherlock seemed to accept the fact they had all done it.] Answer this, do I taste differently to John?" Back in Sherlock mode, curiosity and science taking over.

"Not perceptively, no. I guess men taste roughly the same. Spectral analysis would disagree I'm sure." Another extremely weird conversation to be having - the four dried and dressed.


	28. Truth - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A children's parlour game - taken to extremes, among friends

All four went downstairs, entering the kitchen just before 9:30 as Emma was reaching into a cupboard for a plethora of cereals, the rest of Kew Branch already seated. There were bowls, milk, sugar, butter, cutlery and plates on the table and three different full toast racks, plus marmalade, jam and other niceties. Mugs too, along with an humungous coffee pot. As the descenders joined the table, conversation headed to the previous night's sleeping arrangements.

"Did everyone sleep all right last night?" Kaye enquired.

"Reasonably. Elle's bed's so comfortable. We must get a memory foam mattress John" replied Mary.

"I bet I know someone who didn't get much sleep. Sherlock" said Em smiling, uttering his name in a sing-song voice.

"Why?" enquired the accused.

"Because it was raining hard, and hard rain really turns Elle on. I remember my brother Kris telling me."

"Well Emma, your brother Kris should not have told you" defended Elle.

"He did not need to Elle. I recall hearing noises off when you were on your own in there too when it rained hard enough! Did the drumming rain remind you of a distant love story?"

"Thanks. Careful Em, secrets are secrets... Anyway Sherlock and I slept perfectly fine... between love making charged by the beating rhythm of the rain of course!" She stuck out her tongue at her friend. They all laughed.

Everyone enjoyed their breakfast and coffee and chattered generally, Elle catching up on what her friends were doing at work currently and they more about her job and whether she was excited or nervous to be heading back into work after nearly a four-month hiatus.

The eight of them really got on well. Sherlock had liked Ben very much straight away. He was less certain of Tony, but Tony seemed to be the shyest of the group. He and Kaye though, he thought, were well matched. Mary and John appeared as confident with Elle's friends as he was. It had really shown his friends in a new light. They had flourished ever since Elle had invited them to sleep with them overnight, with other people knowing they were doing so.

The table was cleared and mugs taken through to the lounge with the next round of coffees in them. All looked disappointed to see it was still raining hard, so they could not consider a walk around the beautiful avenues of Kew town without potentially getting soaked. Conversation drifted towards the jobs of the men. Ben explained he was in Finance and worked at Canary Wharf, but where and what kind of level he did not divulge. Potentially Sherlock knew he could be a millionaire banker but was not likely to reveal such a thing in relatively new company.

Tony mentioned casually that he worked in Trafalgar Square. John and Mary were immediately thinking of one of the museums or somewhere like that, but it was Sherlock who said "Canada House?"

"Yes, that's right. Did my accent give me away? [Sherlock nodded.] God, I have lived here over twelve years as well, you would think it would be less obvious now."

"It is only obvious to Sherlock, Tony. He really is the world's biggest know-it-all."

"Thanks Elle. I love you too!" Sherlock grimaced.

"Well, no-one else had picked up on a Canadian accent. Where in Canada were you originally from Tony?"

"I was born and raised in Toronto, but moved to Montreal to be near my siblings after our parents passed. My brothers are both in Europe now, one in Switzerland - Cern - smart-arse, you would like him Sherlock, and the other is based in Strasbourg. A Canadian working for the European Union. Only my brother could get that kind of gig."

"I bet mine could. Now HE really is a know-it-all. We'll see him later this evening. How often do you and your brothers get together?" asked Sherlock, interested.

"I was in Strasbourg with them both over Easter. We try and see each other at least a couple of times a year, you know, around Easter and Christmas, if possible. Kaye was supposed to come with me in April but she was so ill she had to stay with her mother who's a nurse at Kingston hospital. You?" Elle and Sherlock glanced at one another fleetingly. Another time, another conversation. A reminder again of her birthday.

"I work occasionally for mine so our paths cross regularly."

John explained his past history of being in the army and doubling up now as a friendly locum in the City, or Sherlock's trusty sidekick. Sherlock did not need to explain what he did. They knew all about him from his blog, John's blog and other information the girls had genned up on him once it was known he was Elle's lover.

John suddenly yawned very demonstrably and excused himself. Mary jabbed him in the ribs gently but enough for others to notice. "I'm sorry. I cannot help yawning. I had a disturbed night."

"That's a shame John, because I slept really well. Did you not like the memory foam mattress?"

"The mattress was great. I was just a bit too aware of sleeping in the same bed as another couple."

"Sorry John. Perhaps we would have been better in the other bedroom after all. Did Sherlock and Elle disturb you?" The husband and wife chat fascinated the room.

"Sherlock and Elle are remarkable in bed" said John in a dead-pan voice. "They get comfortable on their side of the mattress, not even taking up half the bed, wrapped around one another and laterally don't move. Quite amazing. I was just aware of them being there, and did not relax totally."

"You tend to choose your words carefully John, why did you stress laterally, or did you mean literally?" Sherlock asked before realising his questioning would turn attention back on him.

"No, I meant laterally, Sherlock. You barely move sideways at all. Vertically on the other hand, you never seemed to stop! [Sherlock's hand covered his eyes, grinning, head shaking.] You really are one randy sod! I guess you feel you're making up for lost time, but three, four times a night? Even on memory foam it was like sleeping on a bouncy castle. [Everyone started to laugh.] However, on a positive your love making electrified us. Thank you for that! And Elle, you're as bad, you set him off, humping half the night. Together, you're the perfect storm: him, catching up on lost years, and her, hormone horny. You must have an insatiable appetite for him?" Giggles from others at the bouncy castle analogy vanished instantly at the thought of the electrifying lovers.

"I love screwing him, if that's what you're asking. We just love touching one another, being physically together. I can't help myself." She smiled irreverently, then looked directly at Sherlock and her eyes dilated. "Do you blame me? He's a human work of art" she whispered. Her friends noticed her eyes, Kaye actually gasped. Elle bit her lower lip suggestively. Sherlock tried but could not help smirking, stretching, then running his fingers through his own hair.

Ben spoke next, quite quietly. "You really are a beautiful man Sherlock. I could fancy a bit of you myself." No-one was quite sure how serious Ben was, though he was grinning stupidly.

"Don't you all pick on me. I've had that once this morning!" None of Kew branch understood his loose words thankfully, they must have thought he meant them picking on him verbally.

"Who did those very loud groans belong to?" asked Tony.

"I'm afraid they were me" Sherlock confirmed.

"How about you two electrifying it for all of us?" enquired Emma, softly.

"What? How?" Elle was curious what her best friend was thinking.

"All eight of us in one room, yours as it's the biggest, and let nature take its course as we talk and cuddle together."

"I don't think so."

"You did say you wanted to make new memories here."

"An orgy wasn't what I had in mind."

"We could play 'Truth or Dare'" offered Ben, trying to show allegiance to his girlfriend.

"That game's always dangerous, and inevitably sexual" piped Sherlock, defending Elle's negative stance, remembering the version of 'Truth' over Easter and what that led to.

"Look, we could play it totally randomly: we have an octahedron die. We could each choose a number, one of us starts, selecting the category first, odd will be Truth, even Dare, then roll the die again to see who to question. Once they've answered the person questioned rolls next to see which category and then who is going to be asked the following question, and so on."

"Seems like you've really thought about this Kaye" submitted Elle, impressed.

"Well, we've played it that way with the four of us having two numbers each but with eight, well, it should be even more fun and more random. No boundaries. Let's plan to make it sexual then we all know where we're at. Everyone is allowed one 'cluck'. A 'cluck' being the noise you make when you will not answer a Truth or do a Dare, you know, if you feel it's too personal. Use it wisely though. Often clucking leads to even tougher questioning. Go on. It's raining - really hard - Elle."

"Oh shut up about the bloody rain." Elle smiled as Sherlock raised an eyebrow. This plan was agreed, Kaye went and fetched the die, shaker and a tray to throw in as the rest made their way into Elle's room, curtains drawn, squishing up on the made bed, then they allocated numbers randomly: 1 - Ben; 2 - Sherlock; 3 - Mary; 4 - John; 5 - Kaye; 6 - Elle; 7 - Tony; and 8 - Em. As she came in with the die, all agreed Kaye should roll first; it was an odd number (3) so Truth: then she rolled a 1.

"Ben, roughly how many lovers have you had, male and female, if you have had both?"

"Not exactly sure - have not notched the bedpost so to speak - but I would guess somewhere near 20. None male, except the occasional kissing and fumbling with Tony when us four play together." Ben now rolled - odd, then a 6. "Elle, is it true you're better at hand jobs with your left hand, and if yes, why?"

"Oh gosh. Perhaps you ought to ask Sherlock that, but yes, I think it is true, [Sherlock nodded] and it is because of Kris. He loved it, and as he slept to my right, my left hand got more practise." Not wanting to expand on this in front of her dead lover's twin, or her newer lover for that matter, she rolled the die quickly: an odd number again, then 4. "Doctor John, is there any danger in having an overactive sex life?"

"Not so long as you're careful. You know, staying within the boundaries of one partnership is safest, using suitable contraception where needed. If you do spread yourself further, use proper protection - condoms in other words, not oral or IUDs etc. Stay hydrated, drink lots of water or weak tea. Keep yourself clean and healthy and enjoy. Be careful not to make your partner too sore [he flicked an eyebrow]. There are no regulations that say the body can only take so much sex per month or you and Sherlock would use your quota in no time, if that's what you're concerned about. Your sex life with Sherlock is extreme, but not unique." Elle grinned. The doctor had been very informative, and guessed the thinking behind her question. A throw of die, another odd and then 3. "Oh. Mary. What can I ask my wife I don't know the answer to? I know. How long is it going to take for you to conceive my child now you're off the pill?" Elle gasped, Sherlock smiled looking at his friend. 

"Well that's one way of telling our friends our intentions. I don't know the answer either John. Less time if we have more sex I guess. I'm afraid I don't believe any food, particular position, or set dates in the cycle makes any difference. It will happen when it happens, if we are blessed." Elle reached across and squeezed Mary's hand. Finally an even roll for a Dare question, and who will it be.... number 6. "Well, Elle. We all saw you stretch last night doing some sort of yoga positions before Sherlock gave you a massage. Just how flexible are you? Demonstrate."

Elle climbed off the bed, pausing to think, bent from her hips forwards and touched the floor with flat hands, pulling her head then to touch her straight knees; rising she put her right foot on the wall, then slid it upwards until she was nearly in a vertical split. Dropping her leg back down she walked slightly away from the wall then using her hands over her shoulders, leaned backwards, crabbed down it until her hands retouched the floor, the arch in her back significant. Moving away from the wall she threw one arm upwards whilst pushing off the floor with the other and stood back up, straightened herself out, sat back on the bed next to Sherlock and picked up the shaker. They all looked impressed. She rolled a 5, then a number 6. "I cannot ask myself a question I don't know." About to roll again Kaye stopped her.

"No, wait. Sorry, I should have said. If you roll your own number after Truth, everyone has to answer your question, including you."

"Oh great, now I need an appropriate question. [She tried to think of something suitable.] OK. What is everyone's favourite sex position? Answer in pair order." 

Ben: Missionary, me on top.  
Em: Missionary, him on top.  
Tony: Missionary, me on top.  
Kaye: Doggy style.  
John: Missionary, me on top.  
Mary: Missionary, him on top.  
Sherlock: Missionary, Elle on top.  
Elle: Missionary, him on top. 

Elle and Sherlock caught each other's eyes, then shrugged. "That explains the state of our sheets!" expressed the detective.

Elle rolled again. 3 for odd and Truth, then 2. "Oh, damn. A question for you then Sherlock. What has been the most sexually fulfilling aspect of our relationship so far?" The whole room was suddenly very quiet and attentive.

"There have been so many. Making love so often, finding I could make love so often, especially in a short space of time, thinking of your birthday for instance. Oral HAS to be up there. Maybe, though, I think it's probably the consent we have given each other. One pleasure stands out more than any, being woken with sex. It really is the most incredible feeling and I would recommend it to anyone, and either way!" A huge smile on his face, he threw a 1, followed by a 6. "Damn! Now a question for you! Is this die loaded? In the time we've been together what has shocked or surprised you about yourself?"

"Interesting. There's a few again: the multiple orgasm thing, having never had that before and it starting on our first love making session springs to mind, though on few the occasions I have been restricted to one it has been fantastic. You finding I ejaculate was definitely a surprise [Em's jaw positively dropped]: I thought that was a myth until you told me I did it. And... being able to totally lose control to you ["And vice versa" Sherlock gifted], that's really extraordinary." Her voice drifted off, the friends all looking shocked, as the die could be heard in the shaker again. Elle threw a 5, followed by another 5. "Kaye, what makes you enjoy doggy style so much?"

"I love the depth of penetration and the noises Tony makes when we do it. Also the variety of being able to do it on all fours, lying on your side or standing, leaning against or over something." Intrigue on many faces looked at her, including lots of raised eyebrows.

The die was thrown twice more: another 1 then another 5. Kaye glanced at Elle then said "My question for all then: one answer each couple, how many blow jobs have you shared? Between Tony and I over the last two and a half years, 35 maybe 40. He's really not that keen. Maybe it's because I'm not that good. I really lack confidence." Elle thought it was probably good it had not worked out with Tony if he was 'not that keen' on blow jobs! Calculations ensued between pairs.

"Over our three years together, we're guessing about 70 maybe. More recently, for some reason" explained John looking firstly to his wife then winking at his best friend and his lover.

"Again over three years, we think about 70 too" said Em. All eyes turned to Sherlock and Elle.

"In the last two and a half months with Sherlock? I don't know, maybe 15-20... [the group seemed surprised, Sherlock confused] give or take another 80 or so!" She flicked her eyebrows grinning, flushing bright red. Everyone stared at her. "Oh, crap, I can't help it... I love it... And he responds so well to my attention." She smiled at him. Again he struggled not to look totally smug.

"Are you serious Elle? Over a hundred in less than three months?" Elle bit her bottom lip looking slightly guilty at Tony's verbal estimate, so different to how Sherlock looked.

"Don't try and calculate a daily rate, it doesn't work like that" said Sherlock calmly. "Some days she hardly touches me, and others..." He grinned again, eyes closing.

"Surely you can't always ejaculate?" probed Ben, now asking the question on everyone's mind.

"No, not always."

"How many have you had since we parted last night?"

"Just three so far [the whole room looked absolutely astounded by this confession - "JUST three!" Ben had shrieked], but it could have been more. I have known Elle drift off with her head on my stomach before now and I feel her lips touching my cock when she is, actually, fast asleep. They seem to be inextricably drawn to one another like a moth and a flame."

Even Elle looked surprised at this revelation. "Really? Is that true?" Sherlock nodded. "Am I the moth or flame?" she asked, squinting at him. He shrugged, beaming.

Kaye shook the die in the shaker again and rolled: a 1 then an 8. "Em, do you still enjoy partner swapping?"

"Gosh yes. I think it takes our relationship beyond close, and love how it has developed between the four of us. I would, however, be happy to integrate others, maybe physically less so, into our merry band, if they were willing..." Her eyes flashed towards ALL the Baker Street clan. Em threw the die, flushing. A 1, followed by a 2. "Sherlock, does being here hold emotional feelings for you as it was the place you first made love to Elle?"

"Yes, of course. The house, this room. It is difficult to believe it is only two and a half months ago Elle and I first made love here on that cold, bright mid-March afternoon. So much has happened since yet, in another breath, it feels like yesterday. The memories are so vivid. My whole outlook on life has changed, all because of the love of a girl. I like the man I've become, as do a lot of others who didn't particularly like the pre-Elle Sherlock. God, Elle, I love you." The room fell totally silent.


	29. The dare - shared again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's story

To break the tension he had obviously caused declaring his love so openly Sherlock rolled the die. Up came a number 6, someone was going to be dared, then... a 2. "Ah, now this is REALLY interesting" Kaye explained. "As Sherlock has rolled his own number after Dare, unlike Truth where if you roll your number you get to pose a Truth question to everyone, now everyone has to agree on a Dare just for him. It is the biggest forfeit in the game. Someone think of something." There was a moment's quiet as they thought what would be a good challenge for Sherlock.

"Not that!!" Sherlock and Elle said together, and everyone else laughed.

"I know what he should do. Let's dare Sherlock to elucidate, in as much detail as he can remember, including his feelings and emotions, that first time with Elle, here, in the room where it happened." Ben had put on a ghostly voice jokingly for the last few words, but had said what at least half the others were thinking. Even John and Mary agreed though they knew roughly how it started from a previous conversation. There were a few mini 'clucks' heard from Tony, John, Kaye and Em, half expecting him to back out but Sherlock smiled, willing to take on this most audacious dare.

There suddenly appeared to be a great deal of jostling on the bed. Instead of sitting up as they had been, leaning against the headboard in the case of the Baker Street clan in the positions where they slept, or sitting legs crossed at the bottom of the bed for the others, now everyone seemed determined to find a patch of bed to snuggle down with their lover on as they prepared to listen to Sherlock relive the events of 'that' day in March. To resolve the lack of space, unspoken by anyone, they turned to lie across the bed in pairs, head to tailing with the neighbouring pair, appearing to be playing some bizarre game of 'Sardines'. "Begin as you first entered the house Sherlock" advised Ben, curling up cuddling Emma. "We all dare you!"

Sherlock looked at Elle, smiled wistfully as she snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest as he took a couple of deep breaths. His monologue started at quite a pace. "First thing of note, it was bloody freezing. Such a beautifully sunny day but bitterly cold. We arrived here after Elle invited me to come over and warm up once we finished walking in Kew Gardens. She turned the heating on, and the coffee maker and lit the fire in the lounge. After making coffee, we sat on the settee in conversation. I asked a general question about her house mates coming home and she explained you were at a concert and why she was not there, and asked if I agreed it's not the same if you're not sitting with friends." 

His voice softened and slowed, his eyes closed, stroking Elle lying upon him, remembering as if witnessing events as a third party. Another deep breath. "I said I did not know having never been to a gig like that, then asked her if she would like to show me her bedroom. Her face was surprised. I leaned over and kissed her lips and felt as though my heart would tear itself out of my body. My first attempt in years at passion and she didn't respond to my kiss at all. I was convinced I'd read her reactions to me wrongly. Then, looking in her eyes... I don't know exactly what it was I saw, but knew I had to try once more, even if it ended our friendship, to be certain she was rejecting me. I leaned in, kissed her again, and this time my heart rose as her lips engaged with mine and she wrapped her arms around me. I had been right to try a second time."

"Elle led me upstairs into here and... I asked her to make love with me. She turned on the lamp, closed the curtains and removed her jumper, leaving a bra and camisole on. I went over to her, kissed her again then helped her off with her camisole and bra. I cupped and kissed her breast and it breathed as much of a surge of life into me as I'm sure my mother's milk did as a baby. I felt empowered just because she allowed me to touch her."

"We removed my jumper and she unbuttoned my shirt running her hand up my bare chest. By then I was so turned on I was terrified I would ejaculate before I got anywhere near her. I took off my shirt and we both removed our own shoes, socks and jeans, standing in the middle of the room in just underwear. Elle slipped under the duvet leaving it open for me to follow. I snuggled in close to her, pulling the duvet over us and returned to kissing her lips and breasts. Running my hand down her tummy I found her navel then the start of her laparotomy scar below it. Elle explained to me what it was." 

"I kissed her lips again and traced my fingers down her scar wondering where it stopped, stroking her pubis and hair. Hooking my finger through a leg-hole I removed her undies and she kicked them down her legs and out of bed to the floor." Sherlock's heart pounded as he spoke ever more slowly, his breathing deeper, becoming erratic, and dulcet tones, having totally captivated his audience, now barely a whisper.

"By this point I could hardly breathe. A naked woman was lying beside me, waiting for me to make love to her. I remember wishing we were already in the throes of passion so this awkwardness of those first touches would be over, but I did not know then what was about to transpire and would not have swapped the next sensations for anything. She ran her hand around my body, kissing my lips, throat and nipples, before eventually hooking a thumb inside my underwear."

His heartbeat was now the second loudest noise in the room, only just behind his own baritone vocal. Someone else in the group released a long sigh. "My eyes were closed and I lifted my hips fractionally off the bed so she could remove my pants. Again she used her feet to take them down my legs and kick them to the floor. Her lips continued to walk over my body and, as she kissed my navel her hand touched me, my cock, I mean. It felt like fire and ice in equal proportions. Then, as though to quash the flames and melt the ice her tongue touched the base of my shaft and glided up me to kiss my glans. Christ, [he half-laughed] I don't know how much more of this I can do."

There was loud objection from all but Elle to him even considering stopping now. The whole room was entranced by his deep silky voice and turned on by their story. Elle had slid slightly down the bed, her head now on his stomach, an arm and leg draped over him just as she does when they sleep.

"Come on Sherlock" whispered John encouragingly. "She kissed your glans. Then what?"

"She kissed my glans, oh, shit. Then her mouth wrapped around me and slipped down me, her tongue dancing all the time on my skin... I groaned. It was my first ever oral touch and it blew my mind. I said something, cannot remember what ["So that's what that feels like" Elle interjected], that's right - God, well remembered, and she caressed me with her mouth until I could not take it any longer. Huh." 

Sherlock had taken a sharp intake of breath. The rest probably thought he was getting as turned on as they were at his words, but he knew Elle had just taken his cock in her mouth yet again, and was slowly licking and caressing him. He suddenly realised Mary and John were kissing and stimulating each other, as for the others further down the bed, they were actually making love. He did not care. He was so rapt by his own story, he swallowed deeply then picked up the tale, trying to keep his tone even.

"I pulled her gently off me and helped her back up the bed. Kissing her mouth I sent my hand on a fact-finding expedition. I touched her labia, clitoris then slipped a finger gently inside her. She was so warm, damp and inviting. I stared into her eyes, hugely dilated by now, kissing her passionately on the mouth as I lifted my weight on top of then into her. It felt alien but also so right." 

"I moved as gently as I could. I was not confident in what I was doing; knowledge, yes but experience, no; but Elle's heated body was enticing me to do more. Gradually I relaxed and moved more freely, she encouraging me with the movement of her hips. Suddenly Elle shook violently into orgasm. It felt bloody phenomenal but I thought I had missed my moment but carried on regardless, hoping she would understand. Then I felt her starting to tense again and realised she was heading for a second orgasm. I stopped worrying and enjoyed the pleasure of her body tightening around me, squeezing me."

"Elle then moaned softly. My attempt at maintaining control vanished in that instance and instinct took over. I didn't know whether my head, heart or somewhere else would explode first. I totally lost it as my body went into overdrive. I kissed her gently, then more hungrily, desperate for her, then felt a burning inside me the like I had never experienced before. Electrified and enabled I pushed on savagely, uncontrolled, a pawn of passion. Elle was tensed around me again, moaning and breathing so shallowly. Shaking and sweating I released everything I had: my breath, a groan that seemed so loud it hurt my ears... and the seed within me. My body exhausted, I collapsed to the side of Elle and just stayed there, lying in her arms, within her, feeling her warmth billow around me, my mind totally blown." He sighed.

No-one said anything. Sherlock moaned as he yet again released seed into Elle's mouth. She had stimulated him far too well and he had no choice. The story had turned all eight of them on and there was sex of one kind or another happening everywhere. Elle swallowed then rose back up the bed and kissed him. He was stunned she had done that with a room full of people but none of them had noticed, even after his story finished, and he was already relaxing after such direct personal stimulation. Lots of shuffling of bodies again seemed to confirm that whatever the pleasure had been all had finally reached their conclusion and everyone was trying, trying but failing, to be as relaxed and nonchalant about what they had been doing as possible.

"Wow. I think we can put the die away, nothing is going to top that" Emma stated as she wiped a tear off her cheek, kissing Ben. Soft noises of agreement rumbled around the room. No-one had needed the 'cluck' option. Very brave of them all, especially Elle and Sherlock, who had appeared to have been unfairly favoured by the die. Heavy breathing from the whole contingent was heard. Kaye and Tony were the first to sit up fully. Kaye climbed off the bed and opened the curtain fractionally allowing a modicum of wind and a shaft of watery light to softly penetrate the room and stir the other occupants.

"Lunch" said Emma matter-of-factly. "Elle, what time are you leaving for Sherlock's parents?"

"Sherlock said they eat about 7:30, so if we leave here around 8 this evening they should be finished by the time we arrive. It's about an hour away if no problems and the route by then won't be too stacked up with traffic hopefully. It should not be too bad a journey by that time, even on a Friday before a Bank Holiday. The worst of it will have gone through by then, even if we catch the tail end of the stragglers leaving the City. We would have to leave around 4 if we wanted to guarantee to arrive in time for dinner - it will be absolutely manic shortly." The rain was still hitting the windows and ground hard outside.

Sitting up and stretching the friends all piled out of the room, throwing the curtains wide and the windows slightly open, off downstairs to start preparing lunch. The air was freshened thanks to the rain.

"What are you thinking of for lunch Em?" Kaye questioned as the four girls headed for the kitchen, the guys aiming for the lounge.

"I thought a warm chicken and boiled egg salad would be nice, with some new Jersey Royal potatoes we bought this week. Elle, you can do the eggs, your eggs are always so nice as the yolks are still soft. You are going to have to teach me that trick as well."

"As well? As well as what? Do I need to write you a 'how to do' list before moving to Baker Street?"

"No, but I am sure both Kaye and I, and maybe Mary too, would like to know your secret to a blow job that makes a man like Sherlock putty in your hand."

"Quite the opposite to putty I assure you, but the answer is practise. A lot of practise. You need to feel confident in what you are doing and be sure he will guide but not force you. Sherlock has let me learn my technique on him so he reaps the benefits." Elle grinned, unable to stop herself.

"Surely you know it all anyway from earlier relationships."

"Yes Em, but I'm still learning all the time, reacting to what Sherlock wants and likes, and what I like to do. It is as much a two person thing as full sex is. I learned the basic 'how to' with an earlier partner, but I have mastered things far beyond anything I ever did, now with Sherlock. It is very individual, as is each man's or woman's different wants and needs in the bedroom generally. Unlike with most things, you cannot just look at someone and know what they do and don't like in the bedroom. One area of sex that can be frustrating for Sherlock, as he can normally read so much about people at a glance." Ben wandered in on this group, an immediate thought springing to mind.

"Elle, you might be able to answer a question for me. The four of us watched 'Deep Throat' a couple of weekends ago for a laugh. Bloody awful movie, but I guess it was the 1970s, and supposed to be funny, and was ground-breaking at the time. Do you think it is possible for normal women, not porn stars I mean, to seriously take a man that deeply?" Ben's eyes locked onto Elle as he questioned her.

"With enough practise it should be possible, in theory. You would have to work up to it gradually I'm sure." Elle did not give anything away. The other three men had made their way to the kitchen now, joining the intimate conversation.

"Sherlock, do you actually enjoy Elle's blow jobs that much or tolerate them because you know she loves it so much and you love her?" Now Tony was probing for an answer.

"I really love it. Good job really! Over time I have been able to influence what Elle does as I've learned what I like. Between you, you and Kaye must be doing something not quite right because if she was doing to you what Elle does to me you would both love it, believe me. Those very loud groans you mentioned you heard this morning were caused by it." As Elle looked at him, he walked over and sensuously kissed her neck.

Ben and Tony were now on drinks duty, getting cans of lager from the fridge for them and John, glasses of white wine for Kaye and Em, Tonic water for Mary and long drinks of iced water for both Sherlock and Elle. Elle boiled a large pan of water, numbered half a dozen eggs on two sides, and lowered them in number order into the boiling pan, starting the timer as the first egg submerged. Em chopped up pieces of boned chicken thigh and breast and cooked it, boiling the potatoes in another pan, whilst Kaye washed and prepared all the salad. The whole meal was to be put onto a platter for the middle of the table.

Elle removed the eggs in number sequence as the timer rang and doused them immediately into ice cold water. Leaving them a few minutes, she peeled them with ease and cut each one into long quarters, as requested, the yolks still soft, but not runny. Eggs added to the plate they all sat down to eat together, the mood was light and very friendly. Elle was pleased to have had this time with her house mates, Sherlock and the Watsons. She was still feeling trepidatious about meeting the Holmes family, more so as time passed.

Lunch eaten and table cleared the friends again all found themselves sitting in the lounge, talking away, Elle looking more and more distracted.

"What IS the matter Elle?" Emma asked of her friend who was sitting the floor fidgeting constantly.

"I know it's silly but I'm getting really nervous about meeting Sherlock's family."

"You will be fine. I keep telling you they will love you. Look, I was apprehensive about meeting your friends properly, having only met them briefly before, but they are no more monsters than my parents are. You are going to have to meet them sooner or later. You might as well get it over with. I cannot change them, and am certainly not letting go of you any time soon." He slithered off the settee to join her on the carpet, turned her face to his own and kissed her deeply, passionately.

"You look like you need to relax and think about something else Elle. Why don't you go and give Sherlock his fourth blow job of the day, share some 'love juice' between you" suggested Kaye, cheekily, eyes twinkling, hoping for a reaction.

"I can't" Elle replied nonchalantly, hoping for and getting a reaction of her own.

"Can't or won't?" enquired John.

"Can't" Elle repeated.

"There can only be one reason why you 'can't' ["I can hear the cogs whirring and pennies dropping around the room as you speak John" said Sherlock sarcastically, grinning again] and that is if you've already had a fourth." Sherlock clicked and winked at his best friend.

"No way!" reacted Tony. "When?"

"Whilst you were listening to Sherlock's dare, thoroughly enjoying yourselves, all of you, we noticed by the way." Elle was determined not to feel embarrassed by this confession. Rosy cheeks were abound from all quarters.

"Perhaps a little time alone would be good, whilst we sort our bags ready for departure?" Sherlock offered.

"OK. Excuse us." Leaving all their friends downstairs Elle and Sherlock headed back into her bedroom. The second her door was closed and locked his lips were deep on hers. "Let's get our bags prepared" she suggested.

"Later, Elle. Right now I want... no, need... to make love to you." He pulled her into a tight embrace, catching her lips again with his and steering her over until they were able to sit on the edge of the open bed, still kissing, and manoeuvred themselves into a lying position. On their sides Sherlock undid her jeans, releasing her lips temporarily as he pulled them off her and flung them on to the floor, dispatching his own jeans equally uncaringly. Two pairs of undies joined the jeans on the floor without ceremony, the sheet then pulled over them, Sherlock moved down the bed, his tongue traversing her scar then straight on to her clitoris. Telling the story had really turned him on.

Her heart pounded as he circled her clitoris with his tongue then slipped it inside her. She moaned feverishly. After four or five minutes she was shaking uncontrollably. He had taken her all the way to orgasm like that and she felt giddy from the experience. Her focus faded in and out from sharp to fuzzy and sharp again. Finally he relented. He released his control over her and slipped back out from under the sheet, a smile of utter pleasure plastered across his face.

Hoping her friends downstairs were busy in conversation, not listening for every tell-tale creek of the bed above Elle ran her hand down Sherlock's body over his shirt. "Oh shit" he said and sat up, grabbed his shirt from behind his head removing it - more clothing hit the floor. He then sat Elle up, pulled off her top, unclipped her bra and threw them to the floor also. Naked at last.

Lying back down, now slightly out of breath, Sherlock found himself being stroked and kissed by the woman he loved so much. Time for subtlety and love was when they were on their own, perhaps back at Baker Street with hours of time to plan and play with: this was not it. He peeled her hand off his chest and wrapped it around his hardened phallus, closing his eyes in the process at her forced touch. His breathing was very erratic, hers was slow and tempered. Two fractured words left his lips. "Enable me."

"Gosh you really are hungry aren't you?" she said sliding down the bed and immediately taking his glistening glans into her mouth, licking him. Changing tack, resisting her usual option and removing her mouth from him, she glided her hand up and down his shaft, pressurising his form, causing a loud groan to emanate from him. Lapping up the concentration she was giving him he pressed his hips and head hard into the memory foam mattress. His hands found the fold of each of her armpits and he pulled her back up the bed, flipping them over so she was on her back. His weight now on her. He had gone from loving, to stimulated to ravenous in minutes.

Aligning his cock and his mouth he entered her in two places at the same time, his tongue exploring her mouth as he pushed himself within her swollen, extremely damp and receptive walls. Releasing her mouth he began kissing her all over her face, covering it with tiny pecks as he pummelled her body with his own. She was whimpering as he moved, he was re-engaging that area around her G-spot that had taken such a huge pounding only hours before. He seemed to realise that was the cause of her whimpering and adjusted his angle within her to remove the pressure from that already tender place.

Now he was positioned so no longer inflicting direct pain within her the whimpers stopped and she sighed with pleasure. This was more enjoyable than ever. She lifted her feet off the bed and wrapped her legs around his thighs, tipping her pelvis to offer herself even more to him. His senses were heightened now. He loved the feeling of her below him, her vulnerability charged him with an electrical fervour. His rhythm had remained quite constant throughout this, keeping his strokes long and deep, being powerful and demanding, yet sensitive to her requirements and his need to feel totally in control of her. She was blissfully moaning with his rhythm.

Beads of sweat jewelled on his naked form, giving his skin an ethereal glow. Her skin too was shining from perspiration, a heightened rosiness in her cheeks radiated as they kissed and cavorted on the bed together, the place of that first sexual encounter. They both seemed so much more worldly now, understanding the request of the other by touch alone. They had travelled so far in this relationship. She ran her fingers through his ever more dampening hair and took his lips in hers, bestowing the most delicate, sensual and passionate kiss on him, though the rest of the action was power-based and extraordinarily erotic to both of them. 

He, now out of control, fucking her hard and fast, felt her muscles tighten around his cock as his body trembled and the onslaught of orgasm began. She felt his cock pumping out seed from him into her, throbbing indiscriminately, tantalising her from the inside out. Wracked with pain and pleasure equally her body arched in further spasm as only this intensity of love making could cause. They and the bed shook together, the climax of two bodies so wholly merged as one. Only one orgasm each, it may as well have been one between them they felt so much part of the other; it had been exceptional. Short implosive breaths were all either could manage. They had given everything, now lying arms around the other they slipped into short dreamless sleep.

Elle woke about twenty minutes later, their bodies still together, conscious of the thought of their friends downstairs. She gently woke Sherlock, who immediately pulled away, climbed out of bed, grabbed the smaller dark green towel he used earlier and wrapped it around his waist, holding the larger towel out for her. 

Unlocking the bedroom door they went straight into her wet room and the shower. Hair and body washed they were out the cubicle drying off then back into the bedroom to dress and pack their gear ready for their departure to his parents' home. Elle stripped her bed and put the sheets, pillow cases and all the discarded towels in the laundry basket at the top of the stairs. They carried their bags down and left them in the hall.

How now to face their friends downstairs? Music was playing and they were talking animatedly and laughing, but it was no use pretending nothing had happened upstairs as they would have at least heard the shower, and they were both still damp-haired on returning to the lounge. Sherlock went for the 'nearly honest' approach: entering the lounge with a huge grin on his face he just said "God, she needed that" to Elle's chagrin, she being just steps behind him. She slapped his ass saying he was 'cheeky' blaming her for his insatiable desire, leaving their friends no doubt - had there been any - what they had been doing. A fresh cold drink each gifted by Em with a wink they fell into the conversation the other six were discussing, listening to music as they talked, Sherlock's hands attentive as ever to Elle's body. 

John and Mary headed upstairs together shortly after their friends had descended. They too were collecting their gear together and bringing their bags down, ready for loading into the car when they were leaving. Everyone noticed they had not taken any additional time to be distracted like their best friends.

Fifteen minutes later and there was a production line in the kitchen. Aware the Baker Street clan would be leaving in just over an hour, a light tea was prepared. John cut oranges, lots of oranges, for Sherlock to squeeze; Elle was thinly slicing a loaf of bread (her house mates agreed she was the best at this too) and buttering some as required; Kaye was frying bacon - some really crispy, some less so - in two pans, Em dry frying eggs in a third; Ben set the coffee machine to full capacity and Mary helped Tony lay the table for eight, including glasses and mugs. Em and Kaye both smiled as Sherlock automatically bagged up some ice and dropped it into the juice jug. Elle had him trained obviously. 

Bacon and egg butties consumed, along with fresh orange juice and coffee - feeling more like breakfast than an evening meal, but ample after the chicken salad at lunch, time was slipping away and Elle was preparing herself emotionally to saying goodbye to her friends. She knew she would most likely be seeing them shortly when she brought the car back to Kew, but they may be at work and it had been so wonderful spending time with all eight of them together. Em and Kaye agreed between them they liked John and Mary very much, but had been surprised by Sherlock. They expected him to be distant and maybe a little taciturn, knowing of him from reports read, yet he was actually friendly, incredibly confident, extremely gregarious, very funny and open, and so obviously in love and besotted with Elle.


	30. Country life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendly request and arrival at 'chez Holmes'

As 8pm approached Elle gave Sherlock her key to the car so he and the Watsons could put their's and her luggage in the boot. She stood embracing her best friend Emma in the kitchen.

"Wish me luck. I feel going to the scaffold would be an easier option but it is so important to Sherlock I meet his family." The embrace broke and the two girls stood opposite one another to have the first private word they had managed over the time Elle had been back at Kew.

"You will be fine Elle. Sherlock is right. If they love and care about him at all they are bound to love you as he most definitely does. I am sure it will be nowhere near as bad as you are imagining. Text me if you want to, text me later tonight anyway so I know you arrived safely and got settled in."

"I have loved this last 24 hours with you. I cannot believe how well everyone got on together. I feel a little for the Watsons being thrown into the mix but they said they have really enjoyed it and understand why we three get on so well."

"Well tell them we understand why you and Sherlock get on so well with them: the fit is so good between the four of you. No wonder the guys are such a strong sleuthing team. Let us know when you are returning and whether you will be stopping at Kew when you leave the car here. I know from seeing you and Sherlock around one another if he gets called to the City urgently for work reasons you will go as well. He really does start to twitch when you are not around."

"Unless he is working. Then he seems to be ok. I am getting as bad though."

Putting her hand in her pocket Emma removed something to give to Elle. "I would like you to take this with you so you can do something for me."

"What on Earth do you want me to have one of those for? You can record on a mobile anything you need." Emma had given her a dictaphone.

"Yes, but what I need is you to record something I don't think either you or I would want recording for posterity on a mobile, and then leave it for Kaye and me."

"What is it you want?"

"I want you to record a Guide for Dummies on how to perform the perfect blow job."

"I cannot do that. What Ben and Tony would want and need could be completely different to what I do; I could only supply a 'Guide for Dummies on how to perform the perfect blow job on Sherlock'."

"I know, but it would give us all at least an idea where to start. Elle, tell me honestly - I won't say anything until after you have gone, to Kaye and the boys, but we all really want to know..."

"What is on your mind now?"

"Your answer to Ben's question about 'Deep Throat' seemed too clinical, cold and even slightly evasive. We were all talking about it earlier. John and Mary said they don't know for sure. Can you deep throat Sherlock?"

Elle blinked very slowly. "Of course I can. [The two friends smiled at one another.] It takes practise and a very understanding partner. Sherlock is still trepidatious about moving when I do it, but... we will get there."

"You really love it don't you, blow jobs generally I mean?"

"Yes. It has a unique intimacy I cannot explain. Learn to give Ben a good blow job. Tell him you need to practise and get more used to the feeling. I'll prep some instructions, your homework will be practise first. Same for Kaye, as Sherlock said if neither of them are enjoying it they cannot be doing it quite right. I need to go. I love you."

Another hug and the girls walked towards the door together with their arms around each other's waists. Ben, Kaye and Tony were standing outside talking with Sherlock, John and Mary who were getting ready to get in the car.

"Thank you for the car this week. I have really enjoyed it here yet again - this place is very kind to me. Hopefully we'll see you en route back to Baker Street." Sherlock kissed Kaye then Emma on the cheek, then shook hands affectionately with Ben and Tony: he realised he had gained some new friends. John and Mary stood in line to also say their farewells.

Finally Elle took her chance. "Cheers Ben. Look after Em for me. Try and stop her using that damn crystal ball of hers!" She flicked her eyes towards her friend.

"What? Oh you mean the read-you-like-a-book syndrome she has? I haven't decided yet whether I think it is clever and uncanny, or just plain annoying. It is definitely weird. Take care Elle. Sherlock and you are great together." Elle embraced Ben and he kissed her cheek as she kissed his.

A hug and a kiss for Kaye and Tony each and then Elle was back into the arms of Em. "I know you don't need to hear this and you definitely don't need me to say it, but Kris would have approved of Sherlock. I can see now just how much in love you two really are. I think you've found your soulmate."

"Thanks Em, that means a lot actually. I am sure Sherlock would have liked Kris too, as a friend." Another kiss and a promise of a text message later and the Hybrid car whirred into being as Elle fastened her seatbelt, fished out her glasses (only wears them when driving in case her eyes get tired) and rolled away nearly silently out of the leafy suburb of Kew.

Elle drove straight onto the A316 out of Kew, which eventually became the M3. They had been right to plan to leave at this hour. Though there was still some traffic it was not too busy and they were able to get out of Greater London quickly and onto the motorway. They were all talking about the last 24 hours they had spent with Elle's house mates when they found they were already closing in on the outskirts of Winchester and Sherlock was getting ready to direct her to the small village of Easton where his family home was situated.

Shortly before 9pm they turned into a tree-lined, gravel-strewn drive and pulled up outside an exquisitely proportioned country cottage. The summer sun was beginning to set over its white walls and black slate roof; had it been thatched it could not have looked anymore picture perfect than it did already. The large wooden door opened as the car came to a standstill and there stood three people, all smiling expectantly. Sherlock winked at Elle as she put the car into 'park', engaged the foot-break and switched off the engine, and he leapt as though jumping off burning coals out the car and flew into the arms of his mother. Kissing her on both cheeks he then put his arms around his Dad and kissed him too. Finally a passioned embrace and enthusiastic handshake for his brother Mycroft, standing behind his parents, looking out of place, all City-suited, but happy.

Elle gulped. She and the Watsons all got out the car and made their way over. Sherlock re-introduced John first as they knew him from three years ago, then Mary [clearly as "John's wife"] and then Elle. She shook hands with Mr ["Please call me Will"] and Mrs ["Please call me Debbie"] Holmes. Finally she stretched out a hand to Mycroft which he took, kissed, then gave her a gentle peck on the cheek, then the pair embraced and Elle returned a kiss to Mycroft's cheek, the animosity of late April forgotten, or forgiven at least.

The four friends returned to the car and collected their luggage, including liquid gifts from Sherlock of a bottle of single malt whisky for his Dad, best London Gin for his Mum, plus a few bottles of his favourite Merlot. The seven of them piled into the house and Sherlock immediately led his friends upstairs to deposit their bags. They all turned right and went to the spare room first where John and Mary would be staying then back across the stairs along the landing a little way into Sherlock's bedroom. Very simply decorated his room was a cool dark muted purple colour. They left their bags and headed into the lounge as Will was asking his wife and eldest son what they wanted to drink.

The three friends followed Sherlock as they were invited to 'sit anywhere' with Elle waiting to see where Sherlock would settle, then sat on the floor next to him, leaning against his chair, he returning to a favoured pastime of playing with her hair.

Will offered to get the guests drinks too. Sherlock and John both having Scotch with him and Mycroft, Mary a Martini (as he was making one for Debbie) but Elle just had a long glass of ice-laden water, sinking over two thirds of it very quickly. She was thirsty after the drive and bacon and egg butties.

They all talked and laughed together. Mycroft became the centre of attention after his invite to Chequers, explaining he had been advised on a certain decorum expected, which included smart casual at worst clothes-wise (jeans strictly forbidden - each of the four new arrivals noting they were all in jeans, Sherlock unsure his brother even owned any, as he had only added them to his own wardrobe in the last year or so), etc and who the ministers, private secretaries and foreign dignitaries he would be sharing the visitation with were. The usually unflappable Mycroft actually looked quite nervous at the prospect.

One intriguing observation both Elle and John made was the sweet rivalry between Mycroft and Sherlock. Even with them and Mary there the two brothers were constantly vying for the main attention of their parents. Children nearly again, they bickered and showed off, sulked, teased one another and played up to the audience. Not only was this great as far as Elle was concerned, as she was now seeing the unofficial Mycroft - even if he looked as though he had just stepped off the advertising hoarding for some Bond Street tailor - she was learning about Sherlock more quickly than she had at any point since their romance began. The chemistry between the brothers was electric, totally different from how she had perceived their relationship from the time she had spent previously with the pair together. There was no doubt about the true affection between them which Sherlock had mentioned that, until now, she had not witnessed.

Though his attire said otherwise, Mycroft was now relaxed. He laughed and joked, engaging with everyone in the room. Surprised with her findings Elle had discovered a really lovely man, hiding in plain sight, in his armour of suit and tie. Eccentric, verbose and keenly intelligent, more similarities with his younger sibling were starting to emerge, and she was shocked to find herself attracted to Mycroft, though not in the same way she was with Sherlock. Mycroft, without his London air of power and formidability, was incredibly charming.

Sherlock's parents were the first to bid the room goodnight and they headed to bed just after 11:30pm. Elle, Mary and John all made their excuses about half an hour later and headed upstairs, leaving the two brothers to talk. Elle went into the bathroom, brushed her hair and teeth, face cleansed and moisturised, plaited her hair and then went into the shower for a splash and dash refresher, before heading into the bedroom to find her pyjamas. She had just finished sending a text to Emma explaining they arrived safe, the family had been most welcoming and she was starting to relax more now, as Sherlock came into the bedroom, kissed her, stripped, grabbed his robe and headed for the bathroom. He returned to the bedroom, refreshed and groomed, closed the door (what, no lock?), hung his robe on a peg, walking across the room, naked.

"Are you cold, or are you wearing pyjamas so I can have the pleasure of removing them?"

"I am not cold Sherlock. I just thought it seemed more appropriate than being nude."

"I don't want you nude, Elle. I want you naked, and raw, and in my arms." He began to undo the buttons on the pale grey silk nightwear. "Make love with me." His breathing was already shallow. He sidled down the bed to kiss her breasts, stroking her right one with his left hand whilst his right hand removed her pyjama bottoms. "Tell me you want me..." His words sounded slightly smothered as his mouth was still engaged, nuzzling in her breasts, but they were also slightly nervous and incredibly emotional.

"Of course I want you."

"Good." He said no more. In the blink of an eye he pushed himself deeply inside her. A long sensual kiss that confirmed his intentions, an open-mouthed moan floated away from her lips, her abdominals, pelvic floor and glutes all tightened around him. He stared into her eyes sighing demonstrably. "Deep in my brain somewhere, maybe for years without realising it, I have longed for this moment" he murmured near her ear.

"What do you mean?" she whispered back.

"You remember wondering whether I wanted to be seen by Mrs Hudson back at Baker Street? ["Umm?"] Ever since you said you would come and meet my parents I have envisaged my body on top of yours, inside yours, making love in this bed."

"Surely you don't want to be seen by your Mum or Dad?"

"No. But knowing they, and Mycroft, could be wondering whether we are doing exactly what we are doing really..." He sighed again, his head falling forwards, a smile curling across his lips, his body penetrating further within her.

"Really turns you on" she finished. He nodded. "Tell me Sherlock, just how quiet do you want me to be?" He looked in her eyes again as she played with his hair, her left eyebrow raised, as she suggestively licked her front teeth.

"Quiet. But not too quiet." He smiled devilishly, flicking both his brows at her, twice.

"Do your Mummy and Daddy know they raised such a naughty boy?" she whispered.

"No. But they're about to." The gentle, loving, rocking movements ceased. Sherlock's inner naughty boy came to play. He began forcibly thrusting. Elle released a vocalised sigh. "Perfect" he smiled, continuing his barrage of jolts and thrusts, sliding his hands under those tightened glutes to change her angle just slightly. His alignment re-connected to her still slightly tender G-spot, but she was not going to whimper too much. Not because she did not want the household to hear, but because she did not want him to change his position: he was exactly where she wanted him. Blood was coursing through her veins now like water through an ever-narrowing gorge. Very quickly her body went into sexual spasm.

Heat, tantamount to a boiling kettle, seemed to be exuding from her body through her pores. Sherlock seemed to have picked up on the dramatic temperature change as he exaggeratedly licked one of his fingers, touched her shoulder and made a sizzling sound as if it burned. He rubbed his left cheek against her left cheek, his eyes closed, him nearly humming in ecstasy. "I love it when your body gives in to mine" he trilled.

"So do I!"

Exponentially they headed for a mutual orgasm. Accepting more shallow but accelerated thrusts from her lover Elle clawed her fingers in his hair, took his lips full on hers as her body yet again arched to the lascivious nature of his attention. His hands squeezed her bum cheeks as a series of final jolts confirmed the inevitable. As their lips separated she moaned, ecstatically and loudly, far more loudly than she would have intended, but control of any kind had long since departed her.

"Wow" he breathed. "That reminded me of a ringtone I used to have." He smiled reflectively, thinking, wondering momentarily where Irene Adler was, what she was doing and, more importantly to him, what she would think if she could see him now. He looked into the eyes of the woman in his arms, seeing a diamond-like tear in the outer corner of her left eye, and all thoughts of anything but her disappeared. He plucked her bottom lip with both of his own, so imperceptibly, his lips had released before she had opportunity to acknowledge the connection and respond. The corners of her mouth curled as her lips reached to charge his. His hands moved from underneath her to around her face and he kissed her so passionately for a fraction of a moment her heart appeared to stop in her breast. Another quieter moan dissipated from her.

His body was now totally flattened against hers. His right ring finger delicately collected the tear and he touched it to his tongue. "That... is real love juice" he murmured as he rested his head on its side on her right shoulder, his brain closed down, focus fuzzed away and he fell asleep. She cradled him affectionately, realising that a brain like his really could switch off totally, as sleep enveloped her also.


	31. The calm...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun to be had tying up a new friend

Breakfast was eaten around 9am with most people deciding on poached eggs on toast after a refreshing glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Coffees and teas were made and consumed as talk drifted on to how long the Holmes' had lived there. Debbie confirmed nearly all Sherlock's life.

The day was overcast and rain was forever a threat in the air so the decision was made to show Sherlock's friends, Elle and Mary in particular, around the village where Sherlock had grown up, in the morning whilst it was still dry. Mycroft was making a few final adjustments to his wardrobe for the visit to Chequers, having noticed a black-tie invitation to a formal dinner on the Tuesday evening, so the other six walked out together.

The procession started as expected: Mr and Mrs Holmes were leading, John and Mary next, with Elle and Sherlock slightly behind, but when they stopped to admire the bucolic view of England's amazingly green rolling countryside the pairs splintered, with the three men stretching out ahead laughing and talking away whilst Debbie pointed out what was where from their vantage point. Debbie took hold of Elle's arm and linked up, Mary on Elle's other arm as they set an easier pace back towards the home, just being able to see the men disappearing in the distance.

"How long have you known Sherlock then Elle?" 

"We met on a case in February."

"I have never seen him so relaxed or happy. He is quite a changed man; for the better may I add. [The older woman nodded, the younger returning the acknowledgement with a bowed head also.] Is he still smoking?"

"No, not now. I know he used to. I am allergic to smoke, it effects my eyes terribly, so have become hyper-sensitive to the smell. I'm sure I would know."

"You are obviously a good influence on him all round. Is he still working alongside that French-sounding detective?"

"Greg Lestrade? Yes. French-sounding name, maybe, but a Londoner through and through. He calls John and Sherlock in on cases where their knowledge, intuition, skill-set and expertise outguns that of the usual Met."

"Does he still do any work for Mycroft?"

"Yes, occasionally. Not a clue what usually, it is often something highly classified and top secret and far more intriguing than something as common as murder, which will make the headlines eventually, but Mycroft calls and gets him involved on cases."

"How is his landlady? I can never remember her name."

"Mrs Hudson. She is very well, thank you."

"Is she happy about the arrangements when you stay at Baker Street?" Elle wondered how much to say.

"Yes. We get on really well, and she likes having a female around to sometimes talk with."

"Sherlock says you are just about to start working again, after the business you worked for closed down."

"That's right. A colleague of mine and I were the only two staff in a small PR company - when it closed earlier this year very suddenly I was out of work. I have recently been offered a new role at a different PR company, with some of my old clients back in tow. I start a week on Monday."

"What about you, Mary, what job do you do?"

"I'm a part-time practice nurse at the Health Centre John works at as a locum doctor when he is not working alongside Sherlock, where we met three years ago."

They rounded the corner back into the drive. The door was ajar slightly and the women walked in to hear lots of laughter and smell the filter coffee maker brewing away. They sat down to coffee before Elle enquired what they were all laughing at. Mycroft explained he had got a black tie dinner as discussed and could not get the damn tie itself to sit properly and wished he had bought one of those fake affairs. His mother explained there would probably be an army of staff at Chequers who would be able to help, but Mycroft hated the idea of anyone knowing that he could not tie his own.

Elle offered to help and asked where they could get Mycroft in front of a mirror where he could sit down, he being six inches taller than her, identical to his brother. He suggested his bedroom and the pair of them went upstairs. The others stayed in the kitchen, Sherlock twitching as ever but determined not to look as if he did not trust his brother with his girl - although... A lot of hilarity could be heard from the floor above. Finally the pair descended, Elle had obviously been crying laughing from the look on her tear-stained face and poor Mycroft just looked more frustrated, though very dapper in a perfectly tied bow-tie.

Suddenly Elle said "I have an idea. Excuse me Debbie, do you have a sewing box or similar I could raid please?"

"Yes, certainly. What do you need?"

"A sharp pair of straight scissors, some hooks and eyes or something similar if you have them, and black thread and a needle. Thank you." Mycroft and the rest looked at her quizzically but she obviously had a plan. "Mycroft, could you go and put on the shirt you will be wearing with your bow-tie?"

He disappeared immediately, coming back down with a beautifully smart crisp white shirt on, his bow-tie loose in his hands; his mother providing the bits requested from her sewing box.

"Could I also borrow a pen please? It must have a tight lid or retractable nib." Will went and fetched a retractable biro from his study. They all watched very intrigued. Elle got Mycroft to sit on a chair in the kitchen and got Mary - the smallest - to hold the pen at the back of Mycroft's neck at the nape, perpendicularly, crouching low out of her way. Elle stood behind Mycroft and tied the bow-tie perfectly from over his shoulders, using the pen width to give her a tiny bit of slack in the back. The pen and Mary were then removed from the equation and Elle got Mycroft to lean as far forward as he could as she snipped his bow-tie in half at the back. Using the black thread she first made a very tidy job of sewing each edge with a neatly folded seam. She then used two hooks and eyes and fastened them into place with more black cotton.

Taking a deep breath she gave Mycroft his tie. He put it around his neck and fastened the hooks and eyes very easily, even without a mirror, beaming at her and professing his thanks. "Best of all, when you know the evening is at an end, you can pull the tie undone, but remember to leave it hanging behind your collar or they may see our little secret. Also, make sure it is the right way up!" She winked at him.

"Thank you so very much Elle" Mycroft beamed again as he stood up, kissed Elle on the cheek and headed upstairs, reappearing later, back in the shirt and tie and suit he had been wearing, saying his bow-tie and shirt had been carefully packed in his luggage, thrilled with Elle's clever problem solving solution. More cups of coffee were poured and they sat in the kitchen until a car was heard pulling into the stony drive and they all went out to see Mycroft leave in a limousine bound for Buckinghamshire and Chequers.

"What was all the hilarity about when you and Mycroft were upstairs?" asked Sherlock when the six remaining had settled in the lounge. He had obviously reached the point where he could no longer stand not knowing.

"I was trying to teach Mycroft how to tie it himself and he kept managing to tie himself or me into the bow, but never getting close to being able to tie it correctly."

"How come you know how to tie one?" asked Mary.

"My Dad initially taught me. He was Navy so knew lots of different knots and hitches. I got the role as 'Jeeves' in a P G Wodehouse play when at Girls' School as I knew how to tie one. I was rubbish at acting but the only girl who could tie a bow-tie and had to help my friend Vivienne, she could act - playing 'Bertie Wooster' on with her tie as part of the play. Then later when I worked for a construction company we were all invited to a dinner/dance to celebrate the topping out of a major building we worked on and all the guys hired dress suits and hardly any of them could tie the bow-tie. I finished up doing about thirty in one evening - as they all showered and dressed on site as there was not time to go home to come back, so I really got the knack of standing behind someone to do it."

"It was all very clever" said Will admiringly. "What was all that with the pen?"

"It enabled me to get the scissors down the tie without risking cutting his shirt, leaving a little length for my seaming, but more importantly, it means - as you saw - Mycroft will be able to fasten the tie without pulling it open. I just needed something that would leave a small amount of wriggle space without it hanging too loose once fastened."

"Genius" finished Will.

The friends were sitting in the lounge, whilst Debbie put her washing machine on, talking with her husband. John leaned forward whispering "Did you realise we could hear the pair of you banging away last night?" It was the first time there had been just the four of them all day. Sherlock paused, inwardly beaming, knowing the spare was the room furthest from his... Outside the sky was getting steadily darker. There was a short, very sharp shower which lasted only minutes but soaked everywhere leaving puddles on the drive. It had not been the downpour the weatherman had reported was expected for the afternoon. At least they appeared to have been spared that.


	32. ...before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Water, the catalyst for more frolicking for two

Although it had been dry when they walked in the morning it had remained very sultry and humid. Now, after the rain, it felt fresher and everyone fancied some air. Debbie went outside with a bowl so she could collect fresh produce from her raised beds for dinner when the decision for a wander around the Holmes' garden was agreed and they all set out at a leisurely pace, admiring the beautiful plants and vegetables.

Mary was fascinated by some of the flowers and shrubs in the garden, hoping for inspiration for her little plot in Hampstead so she and John trailed around with Will as he gave them ideas about plants that might suit their needs. Will was very knowledgeable but admitted Debbie was the one with green fingers. Sherlock and Elle were walking slowly on their own. He regaled stories of climbing and falling from trees, a kite stuck in high branches, a twisted ankle after a bad decision to attempt to leap off the compost bins and the shattered pane of greenhouse glass on one of the rare occasions he and Mycroft played together with a bat and ball. They walked passed a charming summer-house where Sherlock said his Mum would sit and read when his Dad was busy in his study, or they would both go for a quiet glass of wine on a warm summer's evening.

Pausing at the far end of the garden, temporarily out of sight of the house and the others, Sherlock took Elle's face in his hands and kissed her lips so delicately it felt like just a breath of wind. His actions seemed to confirm a rite of passage to him, from boy, via asexual androgynous being, to man. Will's panicked voice shouted out as it started to rain. Rain?! In seconds it was torrential. A split second's analysis Sherlock decided they would be drenched if they headed for the cottage over the open garden so he grabbed Elle's hand and bolted for the summer-house, dashing around the garden's perimeter, remaining under the trees until they reached their destination.

It was incredibly hot in there as it was made of timber, so they stood in the shelter of the awning, doors open, watching the rain as it fell in sheets and rebounded from its own force. Loud rumbles of thunder ensued. This was the weather the meteorologists had promised. Flashes of lightning and more thunder confirmed a full storm was heading their way. Sherlock put his arm around Elle's shoulder and could feel her heart palpitating in her breast. His eyes widened as he turned her toward him and planted the second kiss they shared in the garden.

It was not a kiss of a rite of passage: it was not a kiss of delicate breath of wind conformity: it was a kiss that transmitted him knowing how stimulated she was by the storm, and his wishes. His arms enveloped her, feeling her heart pounding against his own chest, gorging themselves on a series of unkempt kisses they placed haphazardly on each other's faces and mouths. 

His brain made a peculiar and definitive selection out of his mind palace from recent experiences, hearing a female voice explaining the joys of doggy style - liking 'the variety of being able to do it on all fours, lying down sideways or standing, leaning against or over something'. This outsourced material triggered a desire as he placed the sponge cushion off a garden bench - stored in the summer house in case of rain unsurprisingly - over the high back of one of a pair of heavy wooden sun-loungers. He turned her to him and gathered her up for a passionate embrace, his ample cock hard within his jeans pressing against her groin. The storm had evidently turned Sherlock on easily equally to Elle, or he was already aroused thinking what may transpire.

"How would you like to have a bit of fun while we wait for the storm to pass?"

"Oh God, yes" Elle breathed. "Anything. What have you got in mind?"

"Just an idea, borrowed from a friend."

"Kaye?"

"Yes, how on Earth did you know that? Have you borrowed Em's crystal ball?"

"No, I saw your reaction to Kaye's words... and the cushion over the back of, rather than on, a chair gives a distinct clue. My deductive powers, see. How do you want me?"

"Spread your feet a little, lean on the back of this chair and I will [cough] lean on you." Elle dropped her jeans to the floor, Sherlock helping to do the same with her undies.

"What if the storm ends?"

"There is so much water out there now we'll hear someone coming from the house long before we see them or they see us." Sherlock unzipped his jeans and extricated himself from his boxer briefs, sliding into her, placing his hands on her hips, kissing the side of her neck. 

She groaned loudly. "Just so long as they don't hear us doing the same from in here." Her head fell forward, stretching her hands to grasp the arms of the lounger, braced for him, him grinning, unseen, understanding the meaning of her unsubtle response.

Gentle penetrating strokes started this action, but did not remain. As the storm raged outside and the rain fell harder, the lightning crashed and the thunder roared, an unbridled Sherlock raged inside, harder and crashed his loins into her as she roared mirroring the storm around them. It was wonderful to feel total freedom to make the sounds her body encouraged, rather than controlling their vocals due to others' ears. The storm was drowning their shrieks of ultimate pleasure.

He moved his right hand from her hip, placing it centrally on her back. She was baying for more and he was heading swiftly for the crescendo of this alliance. As his thrusts became less in depth but more in number her body tensed for the umpteenth time around him - no way she would know how many orgasms in this position, it was like a continual rave - he roared his conclusion, perfectly timed with a colossal rip of thunder close to their vicinity. 

He removed himself nearly immediately from her, tidying himself away and fastening his jeans as Elle took long, deep breaths, still leaning over the lounger. He bent down, pulling up her undies and jeans as he rose, then turning her, collecting her lips for a long sensuous kiss as she fastened her own jeans and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"God, that was good. I loved the depth, the depth was amazing, but I missed your lips. It felt wrong not being able to kiss you properly, but loved it when you begged me for more."

"I... agree." Elle panted, not struggling to find the right words, but struggling for words at all. After a moment she said "I missed kissing you also, it is such an important part of our love making. It's surprising how agony and ecstasy are such close and easy bedfellows."

"If they are in bed together, which am I?"

"Sherlock, you are both. You are cause and effect, Yin and Yang, agony and ecstasy. You have returned to your family home and become a beast. It is as though you never believed this was ever going to happen." Sherlock returned the sponge cushion to its own chair and the pair of them sat on their silent partner, watching the storm, lying in each other's arms.

"I didn't. [He stroked hair from her face.] In all the times I have visited, bringing a girl with me would have been the furthest thing possible from my mind. It was never going to happen so I never even thought or considered it. Now I am here with you and you have electrified me yet again."

The storm finally began to rumble away and, although the amount of water falling was still immense, it became gentle and changed from the double-pedalling bass drum cacophony of the last hour or so to a fast-tapping tip-toed pitter-patter. The lovers stroked and kissed one another until eventually falling asleep to the lullaby of the softer rhythm of the falling rain.

\- * -

"Elle? Sherlock? Are you in here?" Mary had come down from the house with a huge umbrella, borrowed from Debbie's golf-bag, to see where the others were. It was still raining but the storm had passed. They stirred as she entered the summer-house. The lovers climbed off the lounger, Sherlock unconsciously stroking its wood as though in thanks, then took the umbrella from Mary and both girls moved close against him as he set the pace back to the house, sheltering them all.

"Thank goodness you made it to the summer-house. I cannot remember seeing rain like that here for a long time. Were you ok in there? It can get a bit steamy, being timber." Elle realised where Sherlock got his fast-speaking from after this spill from his father.

"Fine Dad, thanks. We stood under the awning for a while watching the storm, then settled on to a lounger with the doors open once we knew it was set for the duration. We had a storm of similar ferocity in the City about a week ago. That was overnight though, the humidity in London was even worse."

"Would you like a drink, you two? We have all had something nice and cold whilst you have been stuck out there, but I could make coffee or tea if you would prefer?"

"Something cold would be lovely Mum, thanks. Could I have a lager please? Elle?"

"Just some icy water for me please. Thank you."

Drinks were consumed gradually as they sat in the lounge, watching in disbelief as a fine drizzle finally gave way to hazy sunshine and patches of milky-blue sky. All the windows in the house had been thrown wide open to let as much cool air in and hot air out. A light breeze invaded the lounge space to the utmost pleasure of all in there.

A light dinner with wine and a long conversation in the lounge and it was soon closing in on midnight as the group dwindled in size as they gradually made their way to bed. Sherlock was the last to leave anyone downstairs, with his Dad draining the remnants of a glass of Scotch before heading for bed himself. Elle was sat on the bed as Sherlock entered his room. She wore her robe but no pretence tonight like last night with pyjamas.

"Am I all right to go for a shower next door? Is there anyone else likely to be needing the bathroom now?"

"No. Mum and Dad have a full bathroom en suite, and the spare room where John and Mary are has an en suite shower and loo. That bathroom is mine and Mycroft's so with him out the house again, it is all ours."

"I do not understand the bathroom arrangements in this house."

"Although the bedroom in the other wing next to my parents' had its own facilities neither Mycroft nor I wanted it because it was smaller. If either of us had taken it, the other would have had both a larger bedroom and bathroom; it was stalemate, so we shared whenever we were both home. It all seems ridiculously petty now, but as young boys and men it was important. Neither of us would give the other an inch. It's surprising we like one another at all."

"Yet you obviously do. It may surprise you, but I like Mycroft too. I will go and shower. See you shortly."

"Would you like company?"

"Of course, but I just didn't think we..."

"Well. I think we should. We may have to watch our volume level again, without an accompanying storm, [he grinned] but I think we can get away with a bit of naughtiness. I want to make love to you so why not in a NEW 'old favourite place'?"

"OK." Sherlock emptied his bladder and brushed his teeth whilst Elle, who had done those before he came upstairs, stepped into the shower and soaked and shampooed her hair. As she added conditioner, twisting her hair and clipping it up, Sherlock joined her, rinsing his body and shampooing his curls. As she stood, refreshing her physique under the cooling water, she released a soft moan which caught the attention of her lover. He looked for just cause and noticed a milky residue leaving her loins, running down her leg.

"Is that all from me?"

"Mainly. Some of it will be mine." The augmented goo shimmered on her pearlescent skin. Sherlock was transfixed. He dropped to his knees and lapped up the fluid escaping her, rising to give her a secondary taste as he pressed his lips upon hers.

"We taste good together" he stated, almost analytically, flicking a brow. She nodded in agreement as their lips reconnected for kisses. 

"How would you like a new memory of here?" she whispered as her eyes flicked momentarily from his eyes to his groin. He smiled then closed his eyes and leaned against the cubicle wall as her mouth engulfed his soft manhood and she sucked longingly.

The pleasure removed any knowledge of time from his head so he was unsure how long she had been sucking him before he became aware of the muscles at the top of his thighs starting to quiver. His cock had filled with blood and become erect and hard, but she was not relinquishing her hold on him. She moaned subconsciously, his mind racing to what Mycroft would say if he knew what they were doing in their shower, while she sucked and pulled and teased and caressed him with her mouth, stimulating him into a sexual stupor. "You are way too good at this" he groaned, enjoying the sensation he was receiving far too much to stop her. As her bottom lip grazed up his length and she collared his glans fully, licking him constantly, she felt a surge in him and released him from the confines of her mouth. There was nothing he could do to stop it: he ejaculated on her breasts and torso as she angled him as she started to stand up. 

With a look of ultimate delight she pouted, rubbed his release into her skin then rinsed her body without taking her eyes off him, licking her lips, eventually unclipping her hair and rinsing away the conditioner. Fiercely he pushed her against the wall then himself inside her, still hard. His mouth opened and a look that confirmed his supremacy finally pierced her eyes from his. He lifted her mouth to his, kissed her deeply as he thrusted his hips forward and fucked her as hard and fast as he could. She was moaning at his brutality, whimpering, his hand gripped her throat and he rammed her harder than ever. He came again, this time inside her. She too hit orgasm, wrapping one leg high over his hip holding him closer. How could she want more of him? 

They pulled apart and rinsed down, neither speaking, Sherlock conditioned and rinsed his hair as Elle left the cubicle and started to dry. She towelled her hair, combed it through with her fingers then made two cane plaits, capturing all her hair, banding the ends together. Towels hanging on the back of the door to dry, she left the bathroom and went back into his bedroom, where she moisturised her face then body before lying on the bed, still hot, naked, the top sheet draped over her hiding very little. He went into the bedroom, still drying his hair on a pale lavender-coloured hand towel, not knowing whether to vent his annoyance at her making him come on her, or apologising for being so monstrous afterwards, but as he looked at her lying there, and she smiled so lovingly at him, all thoughts of anger or apology left him and he placed himself on the bed beside her, stroking her breasts and caressing her lips with kisses, not words.

"Touché" she finally said as she ran her fingers through his damp hair. "I love you." He still had no words. He kissed her as gently as possible, stroking his hand down her arm and up her body, over her breast, which he kissed before returning to her lips. "Make love to me" she whispered softly caressing him.

"What?" he said louder than he had wanted. 

"I want you to make love to me."

"But we have just..."

"Yes, but that was not love, that was sex. Now I want your love Sherlock, to know you are no longer angry with me, want to hurt me or need to take revenge on me or..." His lips engaged hers again. She had read his every move, motive and thought.

"I love you too." His right hand glided down her body sensually stimulating her skin as it traversed to her pubic bone. He touched her clitoris. It was so swollen. He did not need to touch her internally to see if she was going to be receptive, but wanted to do it for his and her pleasure. Sliding his middle finger inside her she sighed softly, closing her eyes and arching her pelvis towards him. A slight withdrawal then a return, with his index finger in tandem, his violinist's skills and anatomy knowledge perfectly demonstrated. Now she moaned, her eyes opening wider, her mouth breaking into a sensual smile, encouraging his playing. 

Her hand moved down his body and her fingers found his cock, by now semi-erect again. Rubbing his glans through the foreskin with just her thumb and middle finger her left hand began to steadily stimulate him. He rolled to be flat on his back encouraging her to lean with him, his fingers still inside her. Slowly but erotically she began to execute a proper hand job. She would have loved to have sucked him again, but that would mean moving further down the bed and disturbing his antics within her and there was no way she was doing that. Mutual masturbation, stimulating kisses and lots of heavy breathing: an intoxicating combination. "Release me" she eventually murmured and he withdrew his fingers, licking them clean, tasting her. She still had hold of him as she moved her body over his, aligned him, and slid herself down on him, his hands found her bum cheeks, pushing her down as he pushed himself upwards from beneath.

Sighing and re-finding one another's lips they kissed and stroked and cuddled and caressed, both finding their breathing being reduced to soft light gasps. How could the same two bodies find themselves in the same physical predicament, him inside her, yet feel so totally different to what had transpired in the shower less than an hour earlier? Slowly she began to rise and fall on him following his body's lead as she felt him become more and more stimulated to her touch.

More kisses shared. Their eyes opened to find the other's pair. Again she smiled that soft elegant smile, but there were tears in her eyes. "Would you like us to roll over?" was her question.

"Yes." Gently he rolled them both, entering his tongue deep into her open mouth as he started to take the control of the rise and fall, she moaning, again running her fingers through his hair. His moves remained long and sensual, reacting to her every whim, nothing too forced, all moves calculated and planned for the ultimate sensitivity of both of them. Some time later he realised he was yet again heading towards orgasm, so he gradually moved faster and deeper. He let it happen, unconditionally giving his body to her, her tightly wrapping her legs around him, her own muscles spasming in conjunction with his inexorable finale. As the last of his seed spurted away from him their bodies separated. He passed her the damp towel he had used earlier for his hair and she wiped her body over, cooling and de-sweating. He then did the same, tossing the towel into the corner of the room out of sight, out of mind for the night.

"How does that happen?" he queried, not knowing if she had an answer. Maybe the question was rhetorical.

"How does what happen?"

"We have two sets of sexual organs between us."

"I have noticed" she teased, looking at him coquettishly.

"How can one time be so brutal and the next be so loving? It is the same male and female bodies together. It does not make sense."

"Yes, it does, when you realise the main organ we are stimulating is the brain. It's what is in your mind. The first session was all about revenge for you. You wanted to take me, to control me, to hurt me even, therefore you threw all the power within you to exert your control and strength over me. The second time was more about demonstrating love; how much you love to touch me, love me to touch you, love to kiss me, love to hold me. The sex bit of that was secondary to the emotive side, where the sex was all encompassing in the first; all your attention was on how deep, hard and physically you could take me."

"When you put it like that, making it so clean cut that it had been a conscious decision on my part to hurt you, it makes me... I feel awful. I am so sorry."

"I'm not. It was mainly my fault and I deserved it."

"How can you say that?"

"I took you in my mouth hoping to stimulate you to a point where I would release you, we would make love and enjoy rinsing one another down, but I felt such an erotic hunger within myself. I could have, and should have, kept you within my mouth once I decided I was taking you to orgasm, but I wanted you to come all over me; partly for the feel of it, but mainly because I knew what reaction I would get from you, and I wanted you hard and mean."

"I have always said I'd never mean to hurt you, refusing before when you have asked me to, but I wanted to hurt you Elle. I wanted to make you cry."

"I did cry."

"When? How did I miss it?"

"You probably did not look for it at the right time. My tears, were when you made love to me, demonstrating your love. Pain of that kind does not make me cry, but knowing how much you love me Sherlock, knowing you wanted nothing more than to make amends and please me, that made me cry."

"I will never act like that with you again, I promise."

"And I dismiss that promise."

"What? Why?"

"Because you cannot guarantee you can keep it, and I may not want you to. However, if you want to promise you will always love me, that promise I will take."

"I promise I will always love you."

"Thank you, and I promise to always love you." She kissed his lips so softly, slipped slightly down the bed, rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Sherlock reached for the light switch and plunged them and the room into darkness, listening to the heartbeat of his lover, draping a caring and protecting arm around her, tears in his own eyes.


	33. Doctor's orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstances transpire to put all the attention on John

Breakfast for six was quite a quiet affair. Will was reading the Sunday Times, occasionally making comment about the breaking news stories within, then engaging Sherlock in conversation about the Notts v. Hants cricket match score from Trent Bridge. Elle looked reflective and when John asked why she said hearing the words Trent Bridge had made her think of her family home, in the East Midlands, not that many miles away from Nottingham's first-class test-quality cricket ground.

Debbie was reading a supplement and engaging the other women in light-hearted conversation about fashion and film. John was relaxing, clearing his mind of his case-load, whether doctoring or the more exciting criminal cases he faced with Sherlock. It was nice to be totally in the country, he thought, away from everything he knew and worried about. It was nice being him, here.

A telephone landline made everyone in the room jump. One of Sherlock's parents' friends was ringing to say his wife had been taken seriously ill overnight. After some obvious objection from the unheard end of the phone Will and Debbie agreed to visit, the friends lived in the next village. John asked whether he could be any use but was thanked and informed their friend had phoned 1-1-1 and a local doctor was en route to assess the situation. Debbie asked Sherlock if he and his guests would be all right. He said of course they would, and the homeowners scurried off to the aid of their friends. 

More coffee made and the four friends took their mugs and themselves into the summer-house. John and Sherlock slumbered in the loungers, whereas the girls sat on a bench, with a sponge cushion, talking away. John asked Sherlock if he knew his parents' friends. He said not, and believed they were golf buddies. Coffees drank the four friends made their way back to the house. Sherlock received a text from his Dad apologising, saying it looked like they were likely to be some time.

The four had cheese and tomato on toast and cold drinks for lunch. Sherlock seemed distracted. He apologised for feeling selfish but had wanted this time with his parents to be special, and now they would be worried about their friend. Elle suggested they did something - quite innocently - to distract themselves. Sherlock's eyes dilated at the mere suggestion then he was up out the chair, grabbing a pair of hands, heading for the stairs. Neither hand belonged to Elle: one each of John's and Mary's as the Watsons were dragged upstairs and hurled into Sherlock's bedroom, Elle followed a few steps behind.

The four of them in one room, Sherlock picked up a ten-pence piece off his dresser and tossed it, asking Mary to call. She did not know what for but said "heads"; he caught then revealed the coin, tails-side up, put it back on the dresser, walked over to John, put his arms around him and kissed him so sensually John was taken aback and collapsed to sit on the bed. Sherlock demonstrably started to undress, removing his jumper and t-shirt before sitting next to his friend, half naked, and removing his jumper, unbuttoning the doctor's plaid shirt, looking glassy-eyed towards his girl. Elle took the cue. She unbuckled Sherlock's then John's belts, removing her own jumper and shirt, now looking to Mary. Girls in bras and undies, boys in pants, all in a rush the four were in one bed again.

"What's happening?"

"You won, John" whispered Sherlock kissing him. "Well actually, Mary lost, so we are all going to make love to you." Sherlock rolled to the other half of the bed and the girls started kissing John, taking it in turns at first, but then moving about his chest so when one engaged his lips the other would find a nipple or wound or mole to kiss.

John finally had his lips to himself long enough to speak. "If this is all for my pleasure, there's something I want. You two. Kissing. Kissing each other." His eyes were flicking between Elle and Mary. He propped himself up on a pillow, Sherlock doing the same. The girls smiled at one another, then Mary slinked her arm around Elle's back unclipping her bra. Elle smiled but her size of bosom needed momentum to escape its restraining support. Mary peeled the shoulder straps down, revealing the round orbs of flesh, threw the bra to the floor, taking one of Elle's nipples in her mouth. As she did so Elle unclipped Mary's bra. As the nipple was released from lips the second bra fell away without extra encouragement.

The girls sat there, stroking each other's breasts, kissing each other's lips, glancing over to their men, who were watching intently. As the girls kissed more and more, both men were spotted licking their own lips, wishing to taste the pleasure. The kiss between the girls finally released and Elle flicked her head towards Sherlock. They both kissed him at the same time, taking it in turns to either take his lips or find another place on his face to kiss. He was loving it but having declared John the winner, John currently appeared the overall loser until the kissing lips of Sherlock separated from Elle and he found John's again. 

Now everyone's attentions were aimed at the doctor. Mary moved to the feet end of the bed watching as Elle squeezed in between the two male frames. John rolled on to his side and stroked Elle. She ran her fingers through the doctor's hair as his lips now engaged the same nipple his wife's mouth had released earlier. Sherlock was silent, totally hypnotised by the pleasure of watching his best friend gorge upon his lover. Elle moved slightly, turning to kiss Sherlock. He returned the kiss passionately, then sidled down the bed to be eye to eye with his friend, kissing his girl's other breast, sucking nipples, watching each other. 

With the gentlest of moves both men moved off Elle and the six-foot frame found itself lying on top of his shorter friend, kissing him, gyrating his male but androgynous form against the smaller more masculine-looking body, two engorged erections clashing together through underwear. Their arms and legs entwined, lips hungering for kisses. As their lips separated the most unexpected words whispered into the room. "Fuck me Sherlock." The two pairs of male lips joined again, the lower man running his fingers through the dark curls of the other.

"No John, that is Mary's domain."

"Oh Christ. You really have got an amazing cock Sherlock!... Mary, come take control of mine!" The doctor was now hyper-ventilating. His whole body consumed with passion.

"Not yet John, but I would like to give you a special gift." She removed John's pants slowly and carefully, then she took hold of Elle's left hand, wrapped it around her husband's cock and said "Please?" Elle looked to Sherlock, who nodded smiling, leaning over to capture a kiss from Mary first, then John, as Elle started to perform a hand job on the latter. Mary and Sherlock took turns to kiss and whisper to John whilst Elle handled his form with a dexterity he had never known before. She really was that good left-handed! 

Looking at Sherlock, Elle's burning eyes conveyed her desires. He removed his own pants, then settled on the bed near John, behind her. Elle released John's cock, kissed his mouth, turned to be on her back, then took his cock again, this time in her right hand. A monumental moan seeped from her lips as her left hand found more familiar territory, both men leaned slightly towards her, kissing her and watching each other as she started to fulfil a fantasy she had a couple of months ago, and revealed the content of very recently, controlling the two men she cared most about in the world.

"God, I love being ambidextrous!" she moaned. She was performing a hand job on them both, driving herself crazy in the process. Not doing the same action but the rhythm each cock was asking of her. Her strokes on John were mid-tempoed. Her hand rolling around his glans at each upward move. On Sherlock the moves were longer, for obvious reasons, but more staccato. Two very different men, two very different cocks, receiving similar pleasure. Elle was in rapture!

Only she would know why she did it. Mary had continued floating around, kissing any mouth she could find. This made the men boil even more so Elle slowed down the pace of her hands on the pair. Mary, without warning, lowered her head and kissed Sherlock's glans. With no reaction from her she went and did the same to John, then kissed Elle's lips again. As their lips separated Mary sighed, removing her undies. Finally she took charge of her husband, lowering herself onto his erect phallus, grinding her hips against his.

There was a sound of tearing material then a groan of equal pleasure and pain. Sherlock had ripped away the last piece of clothing between the four of them off Elle's hips, then forcibly driven his cock between her folds. He was charged. With no consideration of anything else Sherlock drilled himself as hard and quickly into his girl as physically possible. Inches away a small whimper focused his mind enough to see John had taken some control of Mary, doing the same but from underneath. The two men's eyes met, they grabbed one another's hands, engaged the other's lips then came explosively, together. 

Mary wept silent tears, Elle was having a huge moment of her own, squeezing the hell out of herself and her lover within her as he released his current kiss and gently joined with hers. John was immediately asleep; his body totally exhausted having been the centre of this party.

Sherlock pulled away from Elle and headed for the bathroom, she close behind. They showered and kissed and caressed and dried one another, but words were not required. They went back to the bedroom, meeting the Watsons as they headed for their bedroom and shower, clothes in bundles in their arms. On the bed were Elle's and Sherlock's clothes, including one very torn pair of black lace-panelled knickers.

"Look what you did to these! No restraint, Mr Holmes, no restraint at all."

"Sorry. Were they a favourite pair?"

"No."

"Expensive?"

"No."

"Good. Better take them home to throw them away at Kew or Baker Street. I don't want to risk my parents finding them! Actually, I might keep them." He grinned malevolently, flicking eyebrows at her. She threw the offensive pair back at him as she searched her bag for clean, whole underwear. He passed them back, kissing the nape of her neck as she dropped the evidence into her overnight bag, in a zipped pocket inside.

"Why don't you leave them off, go commando? Did you enjoy this afternoon?" Sherlock asked in a whisper and seriously.

"OK - commando it is. Yes, I enjoyed this afternoon, very much. You?"

"Yes also. About time we avenged ourselves on the Watsons."

"Poor Mary will be both dreading and dreaming of the next time we are a foursome now."

"Amazing how fate plays its part. The toss of a coin. John was really up for it. Wow!"

"You drove him mad. Do you think he really wanted you to... to take him?"

"I doubt it. He was just running away with the moment. You did far more, and fulfilled your own fantasy! How did that feel? You really are ambidextrous. You gave John and I totally different treatment."

"I always wanted to wank two men at the same time, to prove to myself I could. It felt fantastic. I just reacted to what each of your bodies was asking of me. You require a lot more effort Sherlock: my strokes on you have to be longer and far more vigorous." Her turn to grin with a devilish look in her eye. He grinned back, a self-satisfied smile shaping his sexually plumped lips. "What would your fantasy be?"

"You are so adept with your feet I have often wondered... I would love you to try and take me off with them. I wonder if you are 'ambifootstrous'!"

"Ambi-what-strous? Anyway I would need both feet at the same time, especially with your length! Let me think about that one." He could nearly hear the cogs whirring again as she contemplated the 'how to' of his fantasy. "Mary licked you."

"Kissed me. Yes. That did surprise me."

"John was so aroused after having you gyrating on him!"

"I'm afraid that took both of us too close too soon. Sorry I was brutish." She smiled. He looked shocked. "What?"

"I was wondering when you were going to apologise or see if I was ok. You always do when the sex is more physical than loving. You are a very caring lover."

"I half wished you'd given John a blow job so I could watch, then kiss him whilst he was receiving one of my ultimate pleasures."

"Seriously? Now you tell me! Instead you kissed him whilst ramming me. Just who in your mind were you screwing?"

"Him, you, Mary. I wanted to f... to screw all of you, at the same time. I really lost it. Sorry."

"Don't apologise for being totally 'in the moment', as you said. I thought it was sublime. We said we would not move our relationship on like that of my Kew house mates, but I think this potentially has further to go. Em and Kaye swap partners, but this feels like we are more likely to swap along the sex line. You with John I mean. I think it's been bubbling up, in John at least, for years."

"Excluding my family John was the first person to show me any resemblance of affection. It is because of my friendship with him I was able to even consider approaching you. I never, in my wildest dreams or hopes, thought our relationship would progress as it has, inviting John - and Mary - into the fold with us. I'm glad though we have."

"You asked me before, now I'll ask you the same question. Would you let John make love to you?"

"No. My brain says don't even go there, but my body half wants to. For the same reasons we mentioned for you I don't think we ever would. I do feel a passion towards John now. Anything more would have to include you and Mary if we decided to take it further. It would mean you two making love to one another as well."

"Don't want much, do you?"

"So much for us not getting time together. We had better go down. I would hate to still be in the bedroom, even separate bedrooms, when my parents get home. I hope their friend is all right." 

They made their way downstairs, hearing the Watsons descending moments later. As they met up they all embraced and kissed one another. It was as though they knew no more had to be said.


	34. Holiday time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worry and wisdom, and an understanding now of three Holmes'

It was mid afternoon and all was calm in the Holmes' home. The four friends were talking about nothing in particular when a car pulled up the drive and Will and Debbie returned to their house, greeted by questions about the health of their friend from Sherlock and John and whether they had eaten anything from Elle - she had noticed they looked exhausted. The elder Holmes' confirmed they had not eaten since breakfast. Elle headed for the kitchen, put the coffee on to brew and started cooking, Mary followed and helped her, whilst Sherlock was attentive to his highly distraught mother.

Will explained to John mainly, but the girls in the kitchen also, that Jane had a case of severe food poisoning. The visiting doctor was so concerned, due to her age and symptoms, he had insisted she was taken by ambulance, and admitted into the local North Hampshire Hospital at Basingstoke. He had driven Debbie and Jane's husband Pete there and stayed whilst umpteen tests had been performed and Jane had been given fluids via intravenous drip after all the vomiting she had done overnight. They had then driven Pete home. He would contact the BNHH tomorrow and update them on Jane's condition as soon as he knew.

Mary walked over with a tray with coffee and milk and sugar on it, not knowing how either of Sherlock's parents drank it. Elle followed with some cheese, ham and tomato toasties she had made for them, which were gratefully received. Will asked his son what they had done in the time in between their leaving and now. Sherlock said they had wandered around the garden and spent some time in the summer-house talking, then most of the time in the house together as it seemed to be cooling off. No lies, just restrictive on truth, thought Elle.

Debbie and Will ate their toasties and drank their coffee with relish, more than ready for something. General conversation continued for a couple of hours. Debbie was going to think about planning something for dinner later, standing to head for the kitchen herself, but was more than slightly wobbly on her legs when she rose. Four alerted voices told her to sit back down; it was the fifth, calm authoritarian vocal of a doctor, however, she listened to. 

"Mrs Holmes, Debbie. You are probably suffering a little from shock. Your friend is obviously poorly, which has upset you. Stay seated and relax. I'm sure any one of us can get anything and everything you need. You and Will have eaten recently. We all only ate a couple of hours before you so none of us are exactly starving. A snack will more than suffice later, a snack which we will provide for you, not the other way around. I would like you to force fluids though. Do you drink tea?" She nodded and Will, Sherlock and Elle headed back into the kitchen whilst John and Mary talked quietly, calmly and professionally with Debbie.

"OK Dad, how much do you really know? Mum seems a little more than upset just for a bad bout of food poisoning."

"You're right son. Jane does have food poisoning, but your Mum's friend Pat passed away last month and I think this episode brought all that and her own sense of mortality flooding back. It has been especially nice to have some time with us as a family, all together. You, Mycroft and us; more so with the addition of John, his wife, and the lovely Elle here." He smiled at Elle. "She is lovely Sherlock. Perfect for you. I have never seen you so contented." The kettle boiled and a pot of tea mashed. All drank tea except Elle who, Sherlock knew, did not like the stuff, so she resorted to more ice cold bottled water instead.

Debbie was looking around for her slippers. She decided she must have left them upstairs. Again impersonating the leap of a gazelle Sherlock was up and climbing the stairs returning in seconds with two pairs of slippers, explaining he had found his Dad's first so thought he may as well bring those down also. His Dad thanked him. He too looked stressed. John held Debbie's arm, sneakily but purposefully taking her pulse. He took Mary's and his own mugs into the kitchen, flashing his eyes at Sherlock, who followed him with his own and his father's mugs - Debbie was still sipping from hers, not being very focused. John informed Sherlock his mother was tachycardic and would need to calm right down before he would be happy it was nothing more serious than stress.

Elle was talking to Will about music. He switched on his enviable sound system asking what she would like to hear. She offered the fact her favourite piece of classical music was Peer Gynt's "Morning", which Will found to play on CD. Debbie's eyes closed and tension ran away from her like water down a drain. There was a lot of whispered talk over the next hour or so (as Debbie rested) between the friends, and father and son. Debbie was later heard to stir and John went over to her first. Again he took her pulse, flicking a thumb up and winking at his best friend. She said she was surprisingly hungry and as a deterrent from her trying to cook for all six of them regardless of how she was feeling and the loudness of opposition, Will suggested a fish and chip supper from a local shop. All liked the idea and Elle offered to drive Will if he would direct her.

Two large chip portions between the six, then small cod for Sherlock, Debbie and John, large haddock for Will and scampi for Mary and Elle; the order was planned. Elle and Will drove off, him commenting on the car having never previously been in a Hybrid.

"Do you like it here, Elle? What do you think of the area?"

"I think it is very beautiful, and so peaceful. Living in Kew you very quickly get used to an aeroplane roar every sixty seconds or so, and Baker Street is different again, because of road noise levels. London itself never sleeps. It is difficult as the weather improves and warms, you want to throw the windows wide open to let the air in but then you have to combat all the road noise instead."

"We like it mainly for that reason, which is why we haven't moved since Sherlock was a young boy."

"He was telling me about some of his youthful antics when we walked around the garden before getting stranded by the storm. The house seems to hold a lot of good memories for him."

"Yes. Has Sherlock ever stayed with you at Kew? Take the next right, watch your speed though, there's a camera about a quarter of a mile down the road, the limit is 30 thanks to the school."

"Thanks for the heads up regarding the camera. Sherlock has stayed with me a few times at Kew. It's still nice to occasionally escape Central London. We stayed there on Thursday night with my house mates and their partners en route to here. That is where we picked up this car. My friend Emma sometimes needs access to a vehicle so she bought it and the three of us - my house mates and I - share it."

"The chip shop is on the next block. Park down the next side road. This is a clearway." Elle turned down a side road as instructed, pulled up and parked neatly, then both she and Will got out the car and walked into the shop. Having regaled off their list to the server, Will insisting on paying, their friendly conversation continued at the back of the shop, speaking in undertones while their order was freshly cooked. "I loved your solution to Mycroft's bow tie problem. That was very clever. I see brains is one of the things you have in common with my son."

"Thank you. I am not as controlled, disciplined or astute as Sherlock, but I hold my own with him. He is the most cerebral man I know, with only Mycroft coming close as far as people I have met."

"I don't know where their brains come from! You seem to get on well with John and his wife?"

"Yes. Incredibly. John and Sherlock work so well together, and he and Mary are the perfect couple. It is like they were made for each other. We all gelled. The four of us have lots of laughs, but the guys can still be very serious when it comes to their work. They are a lethal combination, with Sherlock's analytical and observational assets and John's doctoring skills."

"You appeared to have won over Mycroft as well? He is a bit of a misogynist so you must have some special quality."

"Mycroft profiled me immediately after we met, but explained his reasoning, apologised profusely, then sent me a beautiful bouquet on my birthday. It was difficult to stay angry with him after that. He's a very lovely man. We had such a laugh upstairs when he was trying to fasten that bow tie. So cerebral like his brother, but so inept in other ways. He has such bravura in his job, but seems terrifyingly shy. They are both enigmas." Their order finally filled the pair walked back to Elle's car and she drove them home without a word of direction from Will. Now this particularly impressed him.

"You seem to know your way around here. Have you been to this area before?"

"No. That's one of my skills I especially like. If I have been somewhere once, I can get there again without any reminder of direction. I seem to have a personal compass, knowing where North always is, etc, so rarely get lost. It's weird but an ability I seem to have always possessed. Unlike my darling late father who once went to the Gents in an unfamiliar pub, got himself turned around, and could not find his way back to his family again, and we all sat there laughing, watching him go passed the window two or three times, wondering what he was doing, until I finally rescued him. Hysterical."

"I am not brilliant at directions, but I can read a map and have never got lost in a pub. Your poor Dad. You say he has passed away?"

"Yes, nearly four years now. A day doesn't go by when I don't think about him and miss him terribly. I guess that is how you know you have really loved someone." Elle's voice drifted off.

"Do you love my son Elle?"

"Yes, very much. I don't believe, other than family, I've ever been in love before, infatuated maybe, but I definitely love Sherlock. Unless my brain is otherwise engaged, I miss him as soon as we are apart. It is more than a little pathetic, but already I feel incomplete when he is not around."

"He appears to be the same with you. We've never seen him more relaxed and happy than yesterday until you disappeared upstairs with Mycroft, then he was fidgeting and twitching like something was interfering with his synapses. Once you came back downstairs he relaxed. Both Debbie and I noticed it. I wonder how he is now, with you out again? He is very much in love with you, I can tell, and it has brought about a huge change in him, a change he appears to savour. That is one thing his mother and I have never been able to achieve; for him to like himself. He is his own severest critic and worst enemy. Look after our son Elle."

"I intend to." Crackles under the wheels as Elle pulled up the drive again. The two got out the car, Elle locked it as they walked into the house to find the table laid for six with plates warming in the oven and jugs of ice water and lager being carried through to complete the setting. As soon as they walked in the house Sherlock greeted Elle as though she had been out the house for hours, not forty minutes. A hug and a demonstrably long kiss later, noticed by his father, suddenly animated he was over helping his Mum to the table, suggesting places for everyone to sit, asking if anyone wanted any additional sauces of any kind - Tartare and vinegar were on the table already with the usual condiments - and generally busy-bodying about.

Elle went to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. Mary came over to fetch the warmed plates and dole out the fish and said "Thank God you got back when you did. I think Sherlock was getting ready to send out a search party. He started off so attentive to his mother but once he realised she was fine and John was looking after her he suddenly got serious Elle-withdrawal and was twitching like crazy. Were you ok?"

"Yes, fine. But I was driving and having a very interesting conversation with Will about both his sons." 

They all sat down to eat, helping themselves to chips which were placed in a warmed bowl in the middle of the table, each having their own fish or scampi already on their plates. It was a lovely change to have something so decadent like that and Debbie seemed very grateful she didn't have to cook, not that she would have been allowed, even if it is her kitchen. She also thanked Elle for offering to take Will, rather than him having to drive again, after his impromptu trip to Basingstoke that morning.

They stayed sat around the table talking. Sherlock and Elle cleared away the pots and he took the wrappings and put them in the outside bin so they did not make the house smell. More lager and water were added to the jugs, only Elle and Debbie sticking to water. Debbie seemed far brighter again, after her stressful ordeal. John was especially attentive and Will and Sherlock both separately thanked him for being so kind. 

Whilst they sat talking at the table Elle was suddenly distracted. It took all her skill not to show too much in her face. Under the table Sherlock's hand had undone her trouser fly and one long finger was stroking her pubis and labia. He had remembered she was commando having ripped off her undies earlier, and could not resist the temptation to see how much he could investigate. As Will fetched coffee, Elle fastened her zip and Sherlock rinsed his hands and brought mugs to the table along with sugar and cream. Two hours after their fish supper and Debbie rose gingerly to her feet. All three men were promptly at her side fulfilling the roles of concerned husband, caring son, and attentive doctor respectively. She wished the two seated women good night, kissed her son, thanked the doctor, took the arm of her husband, who helped his wife upstairs, passing on his own good night wishes and thanks.

John said something to Will and just under fifteen minutes later John was called by Will and he went upstairs into the only currently occupied bedroom. He again took Debbie's pulse, proclaimed she was fine, then left them, returning to their son and the girls downstairs. All four sat on the settee, wanting to be close together. Sherlock was again getting twitchy, and this could be for only one reason; he wanted to be in bed himself. The four friends sat and talked quietly, each pair sharing kisses, then as Mary and John headed upstairs after more good night messages Sherlock made his desires clear before closing down his parents' home and leading his girlfriend to his bathroom.

Elle and Sherlock both briefly cooled off in the shower, then dried and brushed their hair and teeth before heading for bed. No sooner were they prone Sherlock's fingers had reached beyond where they had under the table. He stroked her clitoris, then inserted two agile fingers inside her, making her writhe. A kiss on her lips then he moved his body down hers, his lips following his fingers to her clitoris, sucking it, queuing for his fingers to finish, tantalising her before his tongue entered her and he licked her out vigorously. He pushed her legs open as wide as she could physically achieve and gorged himself upon her, biting her, flicking between clitoris and inside her, his hands kneading her hips or inner thighs. With a ginormous sigh, Elle orgasmed, ejaculating profusely, squirting his tongue and mouth.

He moved back up, demonstrably licking his lips, intent on entering her but as soon as her hand was in reach she took hold of his cock so he could not fulfil his wants immediately. Now she headed down the bed. Her head rested on his hip, then her mouth touched his form before she licked his glans then sucked him hard. He had been turning her on downstairs, in front of his parents, and now she felt a burgeoning desire for her kind of revenge. Sliding her mouth up and down his stiffened form she took him deeply, before forcing him to roll so he was over her. As he supported his weight on his hands and knees, she took his cock into her throat, grabbed his hips and made his body start to rise and fall. It felt wonderful to both of them, and he could not resist following her lead.

For the first time she heard him whimper. He was losing total control from this new and most erotic sensation. He wanted to stop but could not. Nearing climax so quickly he knew she was not going to release him until he had. A surge of heat and liquid spurted from his body into hers. She gently pushed his hips away from her, still sucking him, his cock slowly being withdrawn from her mouth, and she completed the drinking of his seed.

She slithered her way back up to the pillows. His eyes found hers, his were shining even more brightly than usual. Their lips found each other and his tongue descended into her mouth as he took control of his own cock again, sliding it between her folds into her. A yell of pleasure from him was muffled by the fact their mouths were still wrapped around one another, muting his shout to barely an audible gasp. Again his weight was on his hands and knees, but this time he had some, no most, of the control. He was pushing himself so deeply inside her, pulling back to near withdrawal, to go yet again. Her hands found either side of his face, she broke the kiss on his lips, moved his face slightly away from hers as she made a passioned plea.

"Hurt me Sherlock. Hurt me now." Being struck by one of the bolts of lightning from yesterday's storm would not have heated him any quicker. He shortened his moves, but aligned himself more precisely to rub her internal wall and then G-spot with his deep dorsal vein, then increased the speed of his rhythm. She moaned before his lips yet again collected hers and her breath extinguished into his mouth. This was hurting: she was getting brutality mixed with love, his cock hard and straight, pounding her inside. The last time she had asked him to hurt her he had flatly refused but this time he was enjoying the empowerment it was giving him. Somehow, contrary to all they had said and believed, this was still managing to be love making. The intensity was extreme. Her legs wrapped around the back of his thighs as his loins forced into her again as her body tightened all its fibres around him, orgasm taking her, her body arched in ecstasy, his climax following seconds later.

Lying, they rested together, holding and stroking, just enjoying touching and caressing the skin of the other. Their lips together once more, passionately and lovingly they kissed, his tongue penetrating her mouth as far as it could. A joint sigh and they parted, at the lips and the hips, she then cuddling down to rest her head above his pounding heart.


	35. Well observed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's witness, Mary's pleasure and a friendly outing

Sherlock could hear noises on the landing, two men talking, but that was not what had woken him. Overnight Elle had sidled further down his body, moving from positioned against his heart to lying with her head on his stomach. He realised that location gave easy access to his cock, should he rise for the occasion. And had he!

Awoken with oral sex, her lips were wrapped around his glans, gently sucking, licking him delicately and profusely at the head. No hand involvement incorporated in this mutual pleasure, she was clinically arousing him more and more with her mouth and lips alone, moaning sweetly, enjoying every enticing touch. The warmth of the late May morning sun filled the room. Beautiful country birdsong filtered through on the whispers of the breeze outside. Sherlock pushed the sheet down, angling his body on pillows so he could watch what she was doing. Elle stretched her right arm out of the sheet, moved it slightly further down to let the air cool her back. Sherlock released her hair from its overnight band, tousling her curls. Her right hand contoured its way up his torso finally resting over his heart and left breast.

In a world of her own where only Sherlock existed, Elle continued to caress his cock with her mouth. Her eyes were closed and, unlike his, her ears unaware of voices or birdsong which had both engaged his brain. One light tap on the outside of the door and a male voice spoke. Too late to cover up or hide, Sherlock's eyes met the second pair. It was not John. "Your mother and I have received a call from Pete to say he has spoken to the hospital and Jane is fine. We are going to fetch her home with him. We will both see you all later." Sherlock was unable to say anything, his father having spoken so fast as normal, was already heading out the door, but Sherlock had been impressed. His Dad had come in, witnessed his son receiving oral pleasure, curtained only by her hair, and not skipped a beat, as though it was common occurrence to walk into a room when someone was being sucked off. His fingers now twirled in Elle's curls.

Sherlock closed his eyes smiling to himself, disbelieving what had just happened and that he had no chance to utter anything in return, but far too much in the moment with Elle to care. She still seemed totally oblivious to the interruption, humming, nearly purring to herself as she salaciously gorged on the ultimate pleasure of sucking and stimulating him so intimately.

No knock this time, John walked straight into the room. He did react. "Hi Sher... oh shit. Sherlock I have just seen your Mum. She is fine this morning. She and your Dad are leaving to take their friend to collect his wife from hospital. I thought he'd just been in to see you?"

"He - he has. He explained he and Mum were going with Pete to collect Jane from Basingstoke and left. He did not mention how Mum was. Why have you seen her?"

"I saw your Dad when I was en route to fetch some more water, and he asked if I would look her over. Her pulse is now normal. God, just how quickly did Elle go down on you? I didn't knock because I thought I had just seen your Dad leave."

"You did. I woke up like this! I can recommend it John. Get Mary to sleep with her head on your stomach and wake you with a blow job. Magic." No hiding his pleasure, Sherlock was smiling a Cheshire Cat smile, as his friend stood and watched, dumbfounded but spellbound. A car rumbled out of the loose-stoned drive.

Elle finally released Sherlock from her mouth covering his modesty with the sheet. "Morning John" she said casually, sounding half asleep or just drunk on the sensation she was just receiving. "Is Mary awake?"

"Yes, but still in bed. Are you two getting up yet, I mean out of bed? It has just gone half past eight."

"God, no! What's your rush? Why don't you and Mary join us? My parents will be gone a couple of hours at least!"

"Are you sure you want us to join you?"

"Yes" replied Elle. "By our calculation I think we all need to make love to Mary." John headed out the room, returning a few minutes later, leading his wife by the hand. Sherlock and Elle were sitting cuddled together, their arms wrapped around one another, Elle's head on Sherlock's shoulder.

John and Mary entered the room wearing pyjamas, Mary looking slightly apprehensive but excited about what might be about to happen. As they went to climb into bed Elle said "Hey, strip". Pyjamas off the Watsons slipped under the sheet, Mary in the middle. Elle immediately rolled off Sherlock and began kissing Mary, running her fingers through short blonde hair.

As Elle continued to kiss Mary the second woman ran her own fingers through the dark titian curls as the first moved away leaving space for the two men. Both planted delicate kisses on Mary's lips before traversing down her neck to each find a nipple. John looked across to his best friend - his best man no less - kissing his wife's breast. John found this new adventure as a foursome stimulating, continuing his tour downwards of Mary, licking her clitoris and tasting her flavour, whilst Sherlock and Elle took turns engaging Mary's lips or a nipple.

Mary was in ecstasy. Her body tensioned as she experienced a powerful non-penetrative orgasm. Sherlock's lips moved close to her ear: "Do you want him Mary?"

"Yes." Sherlock gave Elle a little nod. 

She moved down from Mary's breast, stroking Mary's torso until she reached John's head, running her fingers in his short sandy locks, whispering "Make love to her John". His body moved quickly up the bed, him entering his wife, his weight now firmly on top of her, observed by the onlookers either side. 

Elle was about to leave the bed to join her beau the other side of the married pair, but in the throes of passion Mary seized a hand from each and raised her arms above her to lie on the pillow by her head, gripping their hands tightly, unconsciously thwarting their plan, as her husband drove his body deeply inside her. The lovers turned on their sides, a hand clenched each, and watched as John made vigorous and passionate love to his wife. Some time later the married pair climaxed together, taking pleasure in being studied. Elle stroked John's back as he sighed deeply. Mary's grip released the two foreign hands. Elle rose off the bed, unhanging her robe and putting it on. John withdrew from his wife, climbed off the bed, and picked up his and Mary's pyjamas from the floor.

"I'll go and get our robes, Mary. Shall we join you two in your shower?"

"Yes" replied Sherlock, "we'll see you in there." Mary climbed off the bed too, went straight to the shower room, her husband detouring and then joining her. Elle held out Sherlock's robe for him. "Oh, no" he uttered as he climbed out the bed carefully, incredibly erect, staring hungrily at his girl.

"WOW!" No need or indeed time to say anything else, Sherlock had pinned Elle to the wall, sliding himself unceremoniously between her legs and folds, groaning in the intimacy and relief. He had been concerned he would come before he could get into her, he was that stimulated after being part of John and Mary's sexual alliance.

Hard and unforgiving against his bedroom wall Sherlock took brutal control, relentlessly pounding her loins with his own, again, like on her birthday, lifting her feet clean off the floor. A whimpering moan of pain and pleasure united emanated from Elle, as her arms found his shoulders and her lips captured his. Shorter, fast thrusts brought this vertical fuck to a heady and powerful conclusion, crescendoing with an ear-splitting shriek from Elle and a demonstrably loud groan from him. Pulling away and picking up his robe Sherlock followed Elle to the shower.

Mary and John were already shampooed and clean, kissing and cuddling in the water's fall, awaiting the arrival of their friends. They moved out the shower, just roomy enough for two but impossible for four, and the others went in and started to shower themselves. "I thought you two were going to be in here first" said the doctor as his friend rinsed down.

"That may have been the plan but there was no way I was going to make it out the bedroom safely, not having her blow me then being so involved in your machinations after. I could barely stand, never mind walk." He smiled wistfully at his friend.

"So you two picked up in bed where John and I left off?"

"No Mary. I was just about strong enough to make it to the wall." Sherlock smiled and winked at Elle as she finished squeezing water out of her hair and left the cubicle.

"We thought there would be some explanation why you did not wait until you were in here. We know how much you like your fornication wet!"

"True. I'm afraid it wasn't a case of wanting to but having to do it earlier." Sherlock sounded nearly apologetic, realising his friends had obviously been looking forward to watching them. 'Another time, for sure', he thought. He turned off the water and accepted the towel held out to him by John. Elle was nearly dry now so she and Mary headed back to their bedrooms, dressed and met in the kitchen, then made brunch.

Bacon sandwiches and cups of coffee later, the four friends were cuddled up in pairs on the settee talking when the elder Mr and Mrs Holmes walked into the room. Sherlock immediately asked about their friend's welfare.

"Jane is fine, thanks Sherlock. Pete is just relieved she is home and it was nothing worse than some bad pâté, the only thing Jane can remember eating in the last 36 hours different to Pete. Have you been ok? Sorry we have spent so much of your time here with our friends."

"We have been fine Mum, thanks. We had a bit of a lazy morning, then something tasty for brunch. Do you two want anything?"

"Just cuppas for us thanks" answered Will smiling, as he sat in a winged chair. His mum nodded, explaining Pete had made them a smoked salmon and cucumber sandwich when they arrived back at their home as a thank you. Sherlock realised only their friend's insistence on a bite probably prevented his parents coming home when the four of them were still in bed or, at least, in the shower.

"I'll go, you stay and talk." Elle got up gingerly, kissed Sherlock on the cheek, and headed for the kitchen and the kettle. Mary followed her in to the kitchen, finding half a dozen fresh mugs whilst Elle put the coffee maker on, as well as the kettle.

"You winced as you climbed out the chair. Are you ok? Have you pulled something?"

"No, just a little tender from Sherlock's recent attentions; the benefits of a decent height difference. I'm fine" she added then smiled and winked at Mary. She did not feel the need to explain Sherlock had held her arms above her head as he pushed himself so deeply into her and had unintentionally lifted her off the floor so she felt the full force of him within her. 

A tray was carried through by each of the girls into the lounge and deposited on to a low occasional table. Mary carried the mugs, a few teaspoons, and a pair of thick cork mats, along with the sugar bowl; Elle bringing in the coffee, tea pot and milk jug. All three Holmes family members had tea whereas the Watsons joined Elle in coffee. Debbie and Will were now relaxed after the 36 hour panic over their friend, and their attention once again centred on their youngest son, his girlfriend and their friends. Much discussion took place over what they could do to make the rest of their stay memorable and interesting (the four friends knew it was going to be both those things in their minds anyway). 

As it was dry and neither of the girls had ever seen Winchester, or knew this area of England, it was agreed they would go to that city for the afternoon. As all six could not physically fit into one car it was decided they would take two: Sherlock and John travelled with Will in his Range Rover, Elle driving Debbie and Mary in the Toyota, in case their convoy got separated. Debbie, like her husband the night before, commented on the comfort and quiet of the hybrid.

En route Will was explaining to John that King Arthur's Round Table was in Winchester, plus other historical significances, including it had once been the capital of England, long before London had taken that honour. Debbie in the other car however was explaining about the shops, general culture of the city and the City Mill, where the River Itchen runs directly under the mill, shop then main road. Elle thought it sounded a little bit like her favourite building in the Lake District, in Ambleside, where she had spent many happy days in her pre-Sherlock existence. As the centre was busy, the two vehicles did get split up and Elle was pleased to have Debbie there to direct her to a car park as the traffic system was complicated for an outsider.

Only window shopping as they walked by, mainly because most of the outlets were closed thanks to it being Bank Holiday Monday, Debbie steered the girls to the City Mill straight away. Initially it was so they could see the Mill but also that was her's and Will's planned meeting place if they did get separated. A light bite was suggested by Will so the six of them sauntered to a small shop for coffee and cake, then wandered around showing the visitors some of the main sights. Top of Elle's 'want to see' list was Winchester's cathedral, so very ancient but stunningly beautiful and superb architecture.

The three couples walked around the outside of the towering cathedral, Will and Debbie hanging back observing the body language of the others. Like themselves, married couple John and Mary were walking arm in arm, stopping and looking together, pointing out things that particularly caught their eye to the other: Sherlock and Elle were hand in hand, their arms swinging freely and openly. He would suddenly pull her into an embrace and kiss her, walk with his arm around her waist or shoulder, then back to holding hands and the cycle would start again, neither fully aware of their surroundings.

The older couple started to tire as it got later into the evening. Sherlock suggested his parents should head home and the other four would follow later in Elle's car. Will said he had no worries because he was sure Elle would know how to get back to the car and, from there, home, having seen her navigational skills at first hand. No consideration for their son's sense of direction! They headed home leaving the friends to spend time in this quiet cityscape, reflecting on the lack of continual drone from traffic or aircraft that greets life in the capital. However much he chastised it, Sherlock in his heart was missing Central London.

A slow and assured walk back to the car, Sherlock now with his arm firmly planted around Elle's shoulders, the two couples returned to the hybrid, left Winchester, and Elle drove straight back to the Holmes' residence. The perfumed smell of roasting vegetables met them as they walked towards the front door, Debbie cooking batches of lamb chops, whilst Will set the table and opened a couple of bottles of red wine.

Gravy made from the juices from the chops, a little wine and some flour and water was boated, and with a platter of chops and the whole roasting tin of potatoes, courgette chunks, garlic, shallots, peppers and tomatoes brought out to the table in its entirety, dinner was a 'help yourself' affair. Both Elle and Mary commented on visiting such a beautiful city.

All ate and drank well then relaxed in the lounge. It was just gone 11 when Elle made her excuses and headed upstairs to bed, Mary and John fractionally later. He knew eventually it would happen. Now alone with both his parents Sherlock was quizzed about the lady in his life. He explained how they met, what he knew of her family - one sister, father passed away - her friends in Kew, and her profession. Asked how old she was, he said it was irrelevant to him. 

Then came the big bombs: marriage and children. He did not explain how but said he knew Elle would marry him soon enough, that she brought him ultimate happiness and they had no intention of having children. Debbie seemed upset by this last declaration, but Sherlock pointed out they should be happy he had found a woman that he loved and, more astonishingly, loved him at all!

Sherlock bade his parents good night and headed for the bathroom to clean his teeth, etc before entering the bedroom, where he heard a strange clicking sound as he entered the room.


	36. Passion returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family outing, then a return to the City for one means new spoils to be shared at Kew.

"Testing, testing, gosh I hope this'll work. How stupid am I, agreeing to this? This really is such a bad idea... Actually, um... Sherlock? Do you mind if I use your body tonight?"

"What is supposed to be different to tonight from other nights?"

"You'll see. I want you to control... this!" Elle elaborated further, handing Sherlock the dictaphone, explaining her promise. She just controlled Sherlock himself, and the first part of the love making process between them. He loved every second of it and thought her idea was genius equal to Mycroft's bow tie any day. Stashed carefully in a zipped pocket of her overnight bag, along with those torn undies, the dictaphone was dismissed from their minds until it would be required again at Kew.

Awash with all the attention he had received from his girl Sherlock found his own fiery passion equally difficult to keep controlled as the electronic gadget, and the sexual encounter they shared was powerfully brutal, he being pleased his bedroom was next to Mycroft's now empty berth, rather than near his parents' room. They were both quite vocal, trying to keep the volume low but not succeeding totally. After very robust and incredibly physical shared orgasms, Elle riding him most of the way, but not quite fulfilling the threat she had made during the recording, the pair kissed, Sherlock as ever ensuring his lady was ok. Deep sleep cloaked their bodies as passion had smothered them earlier.

\- * -

Tuesday and a much louder knock on the door around 8:30, and a pause until called to do so, Will entered the bedroom finding the lovers fully covered under a sheet and cellular blanket, lying in separate halves of the bed. "Morning. Your Mum has suggested we go out for the day together. Fancy a trip to the south coast, show your friends one of the beaches?"

"That sounds a good idea Dad. I'll shower and dress then wake John and Mary."

"They are awake already. One of them is in the shower."

"Great. We'll get on and see you downstairs shortly." His father left the room, Sherlock planted a sweet and gentle kiss on Elle's lips, winked, grabbed his robe and went for a shower. Elle followed suit as Sherlock returned to the bedroom to dress, towelling his hair. Elle kept her hair plaited and clipped it up so it would not get wet, showering quickly and she too going back to the bedroom for clothes and then headed downstairs to join everyone else.

All six met for cereals, toast and coffee, then piled into two vehicles again. This time all the friends were in the Toyota, following the Range Rover. Rather than go to Southampton, a sprawling city itself, they headed further west across the county border to Dorset for Bournemouth and its beautiful golden sands. Conversation was free, with just the four in the car, John again confirming he and Mary had heard 'happenings' from the others' bedroom the previous night. The day was spent with the six walking, talking and relaxing generally, admiring the scenery, looking at the beach huts and entertaining themselves with Sherlock's favoured pastime of people-watching. 

To top off a near perfect day, a paddle in the sea was followed by dinner at a top class English seafood restaurant; Sherlock's treat to his parents for inviting John and Mary too, and having them all to stay. The drive home was full of laughter. John had fallen whilst paddling, nearly getting soaked, Sherlock just pulling him to his feet before he was swamped by an incoming wave. Additionally Elle had been mistaken for a lesbian TV personality, who thought Mary was her latest flame, the two younger men not even being noticed, never mind recognised.

There was just one dampener on the day: John was contacted via text by the Practice he doctored at during the drive back to Easton to enquire whether he was available to cover Thursday, Friday and Saturday morning. He talked to Mary, Sherlock and Elle first before confirming in the affirmative. Home by just after 10:30pm, early nights were agreed as all the fresh sea air had tired them out. Elle and Debbie ascended the stairs nearly immediately, with John and Mary staying only a further ten minutes or so before heading upstairs themselves, leaving Sherlock and his Dad to talk together.

The decision had been removed from them; they would need to return tomorrow. Sherlock had explained to his parents about John's message and that they would have to leave some point the following day. They were upset but understood, and confessed to being grateful to have seen their youngest son for as long as they had and, of course, meeting both Mary and Elle, and John again.

Discussion, between John and Sherlock mainly, on the timing of departure raised a number of pointers. It was eventually decided the four would make their way back to Kew after lunch. It was also suggested, as John no longer lived at Baker Street, there was no reason Sherlock and Elle should not consider remaining at Kew if he was not required by an impending case or Lestrade, so they could spend more time with Elle's house mates, now she was moving to Central London. Finally agreed, Elle texted Em to say they would be returning from Hampshire after lunch on Wednesday and that she and Sherlock would stay on a few days.

Sherlock had received a communication too. His was a text from Mycroft to say his visit to Chequers was going well, and he had felt so dapper in his black tie outfit that night. He added he had not been able to resist undoing his tie as the party began to break up, just to prove it was 'real'. It appeared a lot of the ties there were elasticated. One thing was for sure, however many guests there were no-one else would have such a unique tie as Mycroft.

In bed before midnight the whole house was in darkness. Sherlock could feel the warmth of the female body beside him after their love making had changed from gentle caresses to pure erotic passion. He had realised how tired Elle was after their trip and convinced himself he would let her sleep without making love, but she was all over him like a rash, instigating proceedings, kissing, stroking and sucking him, culminating in some extraordinary sex, she on top most of the way knowing that was his preference. Heavy breathing afterwards, a very sweaty male body left the bed returning with a dampened flannel and dry towel for both him and his belle to use. Cuddling together the lovers once again drifted to sleep.

\- * -

Morning sunshine filtered through the dark purple curtains. It was 8:15 and the household was on the move. Wearing her robe Elle headed for the bathroom, washed her hair in the process of showering, returning to the bedroom as her's and Sherlock's paths crossed and he headed for a shower himself. By 9am all six were downstairs eating breakfast. Sherlock told his parents and friends during breakfast about his text from Mycroft, and all visualised his secret smugness, Elle now delighted with her solution. Another walk around the village to have a last look for the new visitors, and a final chance for Sherlock to talk with his parents. The other three purposefully trailing behind the family. 

John kept trying to guess when Sherlock was going to look around to make sure Elle was still there but, like the Kew girls, he was evidently over-estimating. At one point he noticed Sherlock start to turn and pushed Elle into a garden behind a tree so he could witness his friend's reaction to her disappearance. Sherlock was about to return to the lagging group to see what had happened as Elle reappeared and waved, so he stayed talking with his parents.

Lunch was salad and cold salmon. Shortly after helping clear the table all four guests headed upstairs to pack and collect their bags. No deviation from the plan as there had been at Kew. The car was loaded and all four requested not to be strangers. Kisses and hugs from all the guests to their two hosts the goodbyes were long and for Sherlock, particularly painful. He had enjoyed his time back at his family home, especially the conversations with his Dad, who he was obviously so very close to.

Thank you's said, waves through car windows and a crunching of pebble later, Elle drove out of the garden's perimeter, heading for the M3 junction and next stop Kew. The Watsons came in for a coffee before Elle rang the local taxi firm to take them back to Hampstead. Unfortunately neither of Elle's house mates were home in time, as John and Mary each embraced and kissed Sherlock and Elle before leaving, thanking them, as they had the elder Holmes', for their kind invitation. Promises to all see each other soon, probably at Baker Street, or perhaps a meal at Angelo's if work did not demand it of the men sooner, the married duo disappeared as the 16:00 BA Dreamliner was heard flying overhead leaving Heathrow for JFK in New York.

As soon as they were alone Elle looked at Sherlock with hugely dilated eyes, kissing and encouraging him to follow her upstairs. The action started the minute her bedroom door closed. One of her friends had replaced the removed sheets with fresh bedding and the window was locked open to allow fresh air to filter in. Though every cell in her brain told her she should be tired from driving so much over the last couple of days Elle's hunger for her lover was intense. He truly stood like one of Bernini's best this time, inanimate and motionless, letting her undress him with her eyes, hands and lips. As his marl grey boxer briefs hit carpet her mouth enveloped part of his body and she whined like a lost puppy. As blood filled and activated his form he stroked her head, still stock still, letting her satiate her desires upon him.

As she paused momentarily to lick her lips Sherlock pulled her up to standing, undressed her quickly and led her to bed. Lying her down on her back he positioned his body low to kiss and lick her intimately with devastating effect, his tongue ricocheting around inside her. She was close to orgasm before he heard her gasp deeply. His physique slithered on sweat from both forms as their bodies aligned: lips engaged lips, hips with hips and loins conjoined, two sighs mingling in the air above. Wriggling and rolling they each took turns to be on top. It seemed wherever either of them were, they wanted to be in another position so their erotic dance started more jive than tango.

Nearly two hours later and they were still together, enjoying the pleasures of being vocally free in an empty house, noise abatement non-existent! The jive was barely a smooch now, he settled happily underneath as she continued to caress the outside of him with the inside of her. Kissing continually, they brought this passioned love making adventure to its heady conclusion. She had stopped counting orgasms when her body was wracked by a fifth, impressively he served a third shortly before their decision to separate.

Under her hot steamy rainfall shower they washed and rinsed each other, neither caring whether their hair was wet or not, even though they had both shampooed that morning. As they cuddled together, rubbing their bodies against one another, sensitising the water-stimulated skin further, a noise downstairs informed them they were no longer alone. Wrapped in towels now (they had approached the shower naked) they returned to her room, dried and dressed. A quick hair combing with their own fingers and they were ready to meet and greet again.

Walking into the lounge the two girl friends looked delighted to know the Baker Street duo would not be leaving immediately as the Watsons had been required to do. Em was particularly thrilled to spend more precious time with her best friend. Now she knew Elle was moving in with Sherlock, time with her friend would be far more limited, however, she was delighted for the reason. Tight embraces and cheek kisses exchanged all round, Em got straight to the main topic in mind. "Well, did Sherlock's parents have fangs and claws or were they just human after all?"

"Oh, they were more than human, they were wonderful. Very friendly, extremely welcoming, I managed to spend time with each of them individually. Sherlock is very close to both of them. We even had some fun with and saw a different side to his brother Mycroft."

"My family loved her!"

"A better alternative to the scaffold after all?" Em continued.

"Yes, definitely. It was a lovely few days. I could see distinct characteristics in each of Sherlock's parents he has inherited. They were very kind and thoughtful and didn't try to eat me alive once."

"Unfortunately, after what he witnessed, Dad won't have the same opinion of you!"

"What do you mean?" Em enquired.

"Sherlock's father came into his bedroom one morning when I was... adding to my tally, shall we say."

"Oh no. [Em grinned from ear to ear, but did honestly look shocked.] What did he say?"

"Absolutely nothing. His Dad didn't even skip a beat, just delivered his message and left without a sideways glance. I can't say anything though as, at the time, I hadn't even realised he'd been in!"

"No, my love, you were away with the fairies when Dad came in. I was impressed he did not react at all, though he did say to me when we were alone last night that I was an extremely lucky man and winked, whether that carried weight of what he witnessed I'm not sure. He did say he liked you very much. I think you won over the whole Holmes family." Elle smiled at this admission. Never again would she feel trepidatious about meeting or talking to them.

"Are you expecting Ben and Tony here tonight?" enquired Elle.

"No" Kaye replied, "they'll be here tomorrow evening, and we all have Friday off again."

"Why?"

"We always do it. If there is a bank holiday Monday we take the following Friday, rather than the one before normally so it makes for two shorter long weekends and a very short week in between. We had last Friday off additionally, because of your visit. I guess you will be getting yourself organised for your new job starting on Monday?"

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it so I must be ready. I had better sort my suits to take to Baker Street. I think I'm going to need some of your wardrobe space Sherlock."

"It would probably make sense if I had work clothes and casuals here too. When we were here at Easter I only had the clothes I arrived in."

"You ought to have a full grooming kit here too, then you can head for Scotland Yard or wherever straight from here without needing to detour to Baker Street first. That would give us both more freedom."

"Sounds a good idea to me. I will swap some of my wardrobe space for some of yours."

After dinner Sherlock noticed as the evening passed Elle was starting to look very tired. Not only from the emotional side of being introduced to his family, but with all the driving, and more than slightly disturbed nights thanks, in the main, to him. Emma was looking at her friend too.

"Elle, why don't you head for bed via my wet room, rather than yours?"

"That sounds a good idea. Care to join me for a bath Sherlock?"

"Oh? Oh, yes please. I could do with a soak." Elle stood up, embraced each of her friends in turn, then headed upstairs. "Good night girls" Sherlock said as he winked, smiled and followed moments later. He walked into Elle's room to find her in her dark purple towelling robe, selecting towels from her linen box. A dark grey towelling robe was on the bed. It was obviously brand new, bought for Sherlock, and freshly laundered. She held it out for him.

"Looks like the girls have been shopping for you already. I guess there will be a number of things we will need to double up on."

"Yes, including some choice toys and birthday presents." He undressed slowly. He would have liked Elle to undress him, but knew she was low on energy. She left the room to go and fill the bath. He finished undressing, then followed the noise of running water and tapped on the door. He had not been in this bathroom before. There was a lovely Victorian style rolled top bath near to the far wall, free-standing, on lion paw feet. It was modern however as the taps were sensibly on one side. The bath did not slope either, except slightly towards the drain. All the floor and walls in the room were dark anthracite grey slate, but the room was still airy as the window was huge. The toilet and sink were in front of the window itself. A single shower cubicle was situated in the corner furthest from the door. The bath filled quickly, such a benefit of modern plumbing. Scattered scented candles lit the room tonight.

Sherlock helped Elle into the bath, then followed, sitting behind her to start with so he could douse her back and try and aid relaxation. He then stood and stepped over her so they were facing one another and he sponged down her neck and over her breasts, unable to prevent himself salivating at the sight of her stimulated wet nipples. She smiled at him, put her legs either side of his hips and squeezed his body against hers. The feel of her in his arms intoxicated him. She released him and leaned against the back of the bath, copied by Sherlock at the other end. His eyes closed, relaxing, letting his head fall back and the warm water envelop him, caressing tension from his muscles. This was short-lived relief however as he moaned softly and smiled. Elle was trying something he hinted he might like; his fantasy of her using her feet to take him off.

She delicately lifted his cock with one, trapping him between her two feet, adjusting her position carefully and started to rock at the ankle bones. He groaned loudly, lifted his head and stared at her, her end of the bath also enjoying this new sensation. "St... stop" he stuttered finally, his fantasy almost completely fulfilled. Elle was fully awake again. She knelt, lowering herself carefully down his cock. She pumped up and down, he sitting forwards, wrapping his arms about her body and mouth around a nipple. Slowing her movement, he used her flexibility by pushing her legs straight then rolled the pair, asserting himself on top. Good job this was a wet room as water spilled over the rim of the bath, dousing some candles out, plunging them into near darkness. Highly vocal they cavorted away, both hit orgasm (his ironically dry), a feat before neither had believed possible in this scenario.

They swilled down, then pulled the plug after exiting the bath. Towelling robes tied, bath rinsed, feet dry, floor mopped and remaining candles extinguished, they left, grabbed toothbrushes, cleaned their teeth in Elle's wet room then headed for bed. Duvet thrown open, Elle's body contorted as she smiled flirtatiously. "You still want me!" he growled slowly, surveying and admiring her curves, stroking her.

"And just what makes you think that?" she challenged transparently.

"Simple observation and deduction. [She looked open-eyed, questioning him, so he explained.] You have only just finished bathing yet your palms are sticky: you have beautiful green-grey eyes but no colour can be seen, they are hugely dilated. Yes, this room is dark, but your eyes are dilated, not only through darkness but through lust. Your lips are redder than normal, plumped with blood and slightly open, a sensual cue to me of your form below. Your nipples are erect, awaiting your lover's touch or kiss. In your throat a muscle betrays the fact your heart rate is high, as does the pulse I can feel under your navel. As for lower down, so recently washed, yet your vulva is thickened and wet. Signs of recent activity, yes, but more than that. This is a new coating of wet. Previous action would have been rinsed away in the bath, therefore you are highly sensitised and receptive to the idea, no, wanton desire, of further penetration." At high speed, like on a case, just his magnifier missing, for the first time Sherlock had openly analysed her.

"Just shut up and fuck me you cocky know-it-all!" She grinned mischievously.

No further invitation needed. He had been shocked when John had said it, never believing he meant it, but from Elle's lips... He realised he had longed for her to say it. To say what she wanted so blatantly. He knew it was a word neither of them used in ordinary language, for provocation, shock or just as a powerful profanity, but here in the context that was right, it enflamed him.

He was rampant: maybe knowing he was the only man in the house but he could not get himself on to or into her quick enough. Robes still on, their dampened bodies sticking together as he pushed himself inside her. His thrusts were relentless. He was trembling and moaning, even more than she was, a fact she realised as she tightened everything she had any control of around him and fought against him, ending the only way; out and out ecstasy for both, howls of passion and collapsing asleep immediately.

The following morning Elle woke to find the thin duvet thrown over her and Sherlock, both still in towelling robes, and a post-it stuck to her lamp, Em explaining she had been in and turned off their light. Once downstairs they saw a proper note from Em clarifying she had woken around 3am and heard soft sleeping drones from each but seeing light still shining under the door. She had nipped in quietly and turned off the lamp, covering them, leaving them to sleep. The note continued, asking what she and Sherlock would like to eat that night. There would be six altogether for dinner.

Breakfasting the lovers ate and talked before Elle suggested a walk around Kew if Sherlock was happy with that. He agreed. It was incredibly hot and sultry. A quick look in the pantry and fridge confirmed what was already in stock and what was required for an idea she had. Knowing her two friends would be at home tonight, along with their lovers, Elle texted her friends to say she would cook, deciding she wanted to make something special for them all - summer on a plate. Picking up some fresh vegetables, including red and yellow sweet peppers, courgettes and fresh peas, plus a selection of meat and shellfish, dinner was planned. Even for Sherlock there was a great deal of excitement about the prospect of the six friends being together. He would miss John and Mary being there, but it would cause a different dynamic again.

Two things suddenly made Sherlock smile as they walked. Elle questioned him when she saw the look and he confessed he was thinking about a zipped pocket in her overnight case and, more accurately, its contents: a pair of torn undies, ripped asunder from her hips prior to some seriously erotic love making, and a dictaphone, holding within its bowels, literally a blow by blow account of an extremely intimate encounter part of him had with her mouth. "We'll have to gift that to Em and Kaye when they're home. I'm sure they'll enjoy it, well, Ben and Tony should." She smiled as Sherlock sighed and winked.

Text messages swapped back and forth, between Elle and her two friends, then further afield to their guys, established when everyone was expecting to be home. Elle planned dinner for 7:30pm. With at least a couple of hours to pass before needing to start cooking Sherlock kissed her sensually on the neck giving rise to his intentions of how to wile away the hours. Elle, thinking back to a flash-bomb she had previously at Baker Street, suggested playing with one of her toys she had never used with Sherlock once home. Curious, he agreed carte blanche. Asked to give her ten minutes before entering the bedroom Elle knew that alone would be torture enough for Sherlock. What could she be doing? He was as ever twitching the moment she was out of sight. Ten minutes was an incredibly long time. Eventually, as his core muscles tightened with anticipation, Sherlock ascended the stairs and opened the bedroom door.

The first thing that surprised him was the curtains were still wide open, and Elle was not on the bed, semi-trussed up as he had been imagining, hoping. On the bed was a white pillow and white over-sheet; the underneath one was shiny, satin, and black. Now he was more curious than ever. Elle was sitting in the winged chair in the corner of the room. "I want you wet Sherlock" she whispered provocatively. "Would you go and quickly shower - your hair as well?" Without a word he took off his clothes then walked out the room, returning moments later, hair towel dried, but the rest of him glistening with water.

"Lie on the bed, head on the pillow, and relax - think sensual not sexual." He placed his dark-haired head on the white pillow, whilst his marble-white body was lying on black satin. It felt cool to the touch. Elle came forward, draped the white sheet over him so it covered the lower part of his physique up to his navel. "I want you to close your eyes now. You will hear a couple of noises but don't get too curious. I just need to set this final stage up." He could hear noises. None made any sense to him as yet. "OK. I want you to imagine I am naked and about to climb on to the bed beside you." His face burst into an enigmatic electrifying smile. "Look towards my voice now." CLICK.

As Sherlock opened his eyes Elle had taken a photograph of him. That wonderful smile, his white body against black sheet, shrouded by the top sheet for modesty, but his dampened form delineated all his contours, including his dark pubic hair and semi-erect cock. She took about a dozen photos of him full length, then some just of his dark-haired framed face on the white pillow. All of a sudden Sherlock was enjoying this. He threw the sheet off him, lying nearly on his front, leg bent, bottom exposed, his head lifted on his arm, the pillow now off the bed as well. She took a series in this pose too. With only a few black and white shots left, Sherlock spoke for the first time since being back in the bedroom.

"Now, how do you really want me for the next photos? I'm guessing you will develop these, and they will be for your eyes only?"

"Yes." She could barely speak. With the white pillow back behind his head, no top sheet, Sherlock rested flat on his back, the fingers of his right hand tangled in his hair, his left hand loosely cupping his balls, his cock almost but not totally obscured by his arm, eyes and mouth slightly open, the epitome of male sexuality. Elle gasped and took the last photographs in quick succession; she did not want to risk them all being out of focus, like her brain now was. Then there was a definite CLUNK. Elle had put her camera down on the floor, walked across the room, stripping as she did, and climbed on the bed, taking his lips in hers and sighing deeply. "I want you!" She was so hot her breath seemed to lock in her chest.

Sherlock rolled so he was partially over her. "What do you want me to do Elle? Tell me. Say it."

After his reaction last night, she knew what he wanted to hear. "Anything. [Her voice barely audible caught in her throat.] Touch me, pleasure me, enable me, fuck me!"

The fingers of his left hand glided into her hair as he lifted his body over hers. His right hand stroked her face, then travelled down the left curves of her body until he reached between to take hold of himself. He angled his hips above hers and pressed his cock between her folds. Breathing in a lungful of air, appearing to release none, her face split into a resounding smile as her body again accepted his penetration. Right hand against her face, he was hungrily trying to kiss every area of her mouth, cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, chin, ears even. He was losing control already.

To try and focus his mind she ran her fingers across his face. Slowing his kisses, capturing his mouth with hers, her other hand finding purchase on his lower back. She spread her fingers so her middle finger lay along the crack of his backside, the fingers either side spread on his muscular bottom cheeks, guiding his movement. It was as though he had momentarily forgotten he was already inside her. Her body shifted in scintillating wriggles beneath his. Suddenly his awareness pulled him out of the stupor and, remembering her electrifying heart-felt plea, he started to take command of his frame and moved his body within her. His strokes were long and slow. He guessed from the phrasing of her request she probably wanted him hard and fast, but knew it would get there; for now he wanted to feel the pleasure of her around him.

His brain had found cynosure. Eyes closed, all his concentration was centred on one thing: how much could he feel solely from the glans of his cock? Stripping away all other thoughts he was able to focus totally on this one place and it was sending him beyond pleasure. He could feel everything: the tightness of her body, the bone structure of her pelvis he was pressing against, the softness, the warmth, the sudden wetness as she ejaculated without warning. A heat overwhelmed him. His brain left his glans and re-engaged with the rest of his frame. Her legs were now tight around his thighs, her hands had remained where they had settled, her tongue... Her tongue was touching the end of his, but his was being sucked, in her mouth, the same technique she used on his cock so effectively.

He withdrew his tongue from her mouth, planted a sybaritic kiss on her lips and ached as his body finally began to rhythmically thrust inside her. She was writhing now. Air-purging sighs, groans and moans expelled from her as she contorted into orgasm around him, he increasing his presence even more, powering now to fulfil her request. As the last modicum of self-command left him and his involuntary reactions to her overruled all pretence at control, he bombarded her with jolts and thrusts until his body unleashed its liquid contents, she squeezing everything out of him as her own form climaxed again. His forceful ejaculation caused him to bellow so loud, his mind returning to his glans to feel that most excruciatingly wonderful sensation within her. The world around him blurred and dissolved, fading to black as he tried to force himself back to his brain.

Returned to his whole body again Sherlock felt her arms wrap around him so caressively and lovingly, stroking his sweated wet hair away from his eyes, she gathered his lips for an intensely sensual kiss. A fire in the depth of his stomach was suddenly re-stoked and he began to shudder uncontrollably. After such a powerful orgasm he was yet again heading for an encore. He felt unsure she would want any more of him but, on the contrary, she rolled the pair, took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately as she rose and fell on him quickly, bringing him through to his second climax, relieved and released. Sublime.


	37. Recorded delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner for six then a gift for four, to share

Resting in his arms, Elle could feel Sherlock shaking below her, more than ever before. She moaned as she felt his phallus slide out of her on a billow of mixed ejaculate as they quit her body for the black sheet underneath. Lifting her head slightly, looking at the angular features of the face of the man she held, a curling smile blossomed on his lips. He filled his lungs with air, his chest barreling outwards as his mouth pursed to release the gaseous mix gradually back into the room.

"Wow. That was fantastic. Elle, those undies, the torn ones... I want to keep them. A trophy to our passion." He grinned, she smiled and nodded.

"I thought you might. Perhaps something else to double up on some time? Did I lose you for a while?"

"No. I have never felt more inside you. Somehow I switched off my brain and transferred all thoughts to my glans, and felt everything. I love totally losing control with you. It's phenomenal. When will you develop the pictures?" The pair of them climbed off the bed and put their robes on as she threw the white sheet off the bed, spotting their jointly deposited stain on the satin.

"Tomorrow, maybe, you can help if you like?" He nodded. "Better put this sheet straight in the washing machine. Black may be sexy for photographing beautiful white bodies against but it's not a great colour for sex-mad lovers." She took the sheet straight down and started the washing machine, heading for her wet room to join Sherlock showering. Forty minutes later and they were dressed, had re-made the bed then headed downstairs to the kitchen where Elle started to cook. 

Chicken diced and cooked through first then removed from the pan, same with the chorizo. Now with the flavour from both meats left in the pan she cooked the rest, starting with a shallot and some garlic, then added rice, Paprika, Saffron and stock. As the rice soaked up the final liquid the chicken and chorizo were returned to the pan along with the vegetables - carefully chopped by Sherlock under instruction, the shellfish would go in just minutes before serving. Barely on simmer, lightly stirred, seasoned, lidded and left, dinner continued to cook slowly infusing all the flavours.

Surprise! Just past 7pm all four of the Kew branch of friends turned up together. They explained, very occasionally they all manage to get on the same tube home. They walked into the kitchen to see Sherlock laying the table and Elle tidying up her cooking mess. Em shrieked "Paella!" Elle nodded, greetings made and the four latest arrivals headed upstairs to freshen and change as she added fresh clams, prawns and mussels to the pot. A couple of bottles of chilled white wine were brought from the fridge as everyone took their seats, Elle bringing the large deep pan to the table, Sherlock holding a handful of chopped parsley aloft to scatter on top. Light applause and mock bows later and they were all eating, chatting away the evening.

Over an hour and a half passed by hardly noticed. The first person leaving the table being Ben, who had fetched yet another bottle of white from the fridge. Kaye and Em both rose next, clearing pots, stacking the dishwasher, making coffee and returning with some very posh dark chocolate ice cream they bought a couple of weeks earlier, intending to have it before the Bank Holiday with Elle and co. Ice cream eaten and coffee being consumed Elle was the next to leave the table. She nipped upstairs.

The conversation around the table must have been interesting as she was nearly ten minutes and Sherlock had not even thought of following her. As she came back to the table one arm was behind her back. A glassy-eyed Sherlock looked at her and she winked. Grinning widely she placed a small box on the middle of the table and settled back in her seat next to him.

As the current argument about what was the best scientific discovery of the last 50 years came to a head, voices started to calm. Elle and Sherlock were holding hands under the table. Em looked towards them and said "Gosh, Sherlock. You're a terrible influence on us. The intellectual level and subject matter of our teatime debates changes dramatically when someone as brainy as you joins us." Sherlock looked perplexed, then at Elle. "Not that Elle isn't smart as well, but you... Where did that box come from?"

"That's a little gift from Sherlock and me to the four of you. We hope you like it." Em picked up the parcel. It was not wrapped but just a tight-fitting box. It took her about a minute to get the two halves to begin to prise apart, by which time all around the table were looking. Finally the two pieces separated and Emma's face burst into a huge smile, her eyes staring directly at Elle, who smiled back nodding. The dictaphone was removed from the box. "I think Sherlock and I will leave you all to it. Have fun, we'll see you in the morning." Elle got up from the table again, this time to leave, Sherlock moving his chair to follow.

"Wait. Elle, Sherlock, won't you share it with us?" Em begged. By now Ben and Tony, who had not been privy to their partners' request of their friend, were looking totally confused.

"It is for you in twos, or as a four, you don't need us as well."

"We don't NEED you - no - not if this contains anything like what we're hoping. But we would love you to join us all the same. [Her eyes stared directly at the standing man.] Please Sherlock. We have always wanted to share our bed with Elle, but she never had anyone in her own before you to invite along. The 'Truth or Dare' game last time gave us an inkling of what things could be like."

"Just what are you suggesting?" questioned the detective.

"I want you and Elle to join Ben, Kaye, Tony and me in my bedroom. We all settle on the bed with our own partners and let the dictaphone - well, dictate. See if what Elle says really works on you."

"We know it works on me, as you'll realise as you play it, I was involved in the original recording."

"Then you have got to be there for the opening night! Anyway, if one of us should cock it... I mean, make a mess of proceedings, we need 'Elle the expert' to advise and guide us!"

"No way!" shrieked her friend. Em laughed knowing what reaction this would cause. Elle's voice softened. "What do you think, Sherlock? A night on our own - anything goes - or does my friend's appeal appeal to you?"

"Well... maybe we should be there for the opening night. It would be interesting to see if the effect is as potent second time around on listening as it was making." A wickedly menacing smile burst from his lips. The naughtiest of Sherlock's inner naughty boys had come to play. Elle resigned herself, nodded and headed upstairs to change into pyjamas. Sherlock followed doing the same, the pair diverting to her wet room for teeth, etc, then knocked on Em's bedroom door.

Ambient and romantic, the bedroom seemed prepared for passion. Only a street lamp's light from across the road prevented total blackness. The pillows had been thrown to the floor in a corner, the top sheet concertinaed at the bottom of the kingsize bed, should they need it later. Everyone already in the room was topless. Unsubtly the space left for the latest arrivals was in the middle. The other two couples were kissing and cuddling. Sherlock smiled, removed his shirt, walked to the bottom of the bed and climbed into the gap left for him and Elle. The kissing stopped momentarily, then Em followed by Kaye each kissed Sherlock's lips. All eyes then turned to Elle. 

She sighed loudly, closed her eyes smiling, accepting her fate and decided 'In for a penny...' Slowly, seductively, with five pairs of eyes watching, she undid her shirt and let it fall. Tony groaned. Ben could not prevent himself saying "Wow", which caused another smug 'aren't-I-the-lucky-one' grin on Sherlock's face. She too walked to the bottom of the bed and climbed up the middle, kissing Sherlock's navel, nipples and throat on the way to his lips. He partially sat up, continuing her move up the bed until she was kneeling across him, his lips latching on to a nipple in return. She kissed the other men.

"Gosh - it was a good idea to get you two in here, but this could be the shortest session we've ever had together!" Kaye could feel the heat in herself growing, never mind in Tony. From what she could see from their reactions, Em and Ben were feeling very similarly. It appeared the four of them had wanted to make this ménage-à-six happen for some time. It had been well over two years since the four had got together and had tried to entice Elle alone to join them, but now she had her own lover, by far the sexiest (and youngest) of them all, their lust for this moment had been insurmountably building.

Sherlock released Elle's nipple and she slipped back down, kissing his lips then cuddling, pressing her breasts against his chest as the other men wished momentarily they were him. "OK, we have briefed our boys" said Em, "is this good to go?" holding out the dictaphone. Elle shook her head.

"No. Shit. Sorry. I didn't set it to the beginning. Are you sure you want us in here?"

"God, yes, more than anything. [A couple of clicks and whirs later and Em looked around the group.] Ready?" There was affirmation from everyone. Making sure the sound level was set to 'high', she pressed play, then put the dictaphone on her bedside table.

"Testing, testing, gosh I hope this'll work. How stupid am I, agreeing to this? This really is such a bad idea. Actually, um... Sherlock? Do you mind if I use your body tonight?"

"What is supposed to be different to tonight from other nights?"

"You'll see. I want you to control... this!" The other four could only imagine the conversation during the pause.

"OK, Let's start. Make sure both of you are comfortable, position-wise and from the point of warmth. Right, he needs to be naked for this so off please - ooo. Lie beside him, easiest when still perfecting the art [there had obviously been a pause on the recording here, now three pairs of male pyjama bottoms were removed]. Rest your head on his stomach, touch the end of his cock with your tongue, kiss him." From this moment on Elle's voice was soft, provocative and sensual. The others finally understood. She was not describing what she would do, she was describing what she DID do, that night with Sherlock at his parents' home. This was going to be a 'live' recording.

It started off quite staccato: an instruction, followed by an electronic pause, followed by further instruction. This went on nearly ten minutes. Only they knew exactly what happened during the pauses. She had said she had wanted Sherlock to control the dictaphone so obviously he was pressing Record or Pause as requested, but it was evident as the recording continued his mind was solely on what she was doing to him and now, there were no longer any pauses, everything was there for all to hear.

"Run your tongue again up his full length, from root to head, then back down, love the feel of him against your tongue. Ummm. Then do the same again but use the inside of your bottom lip. When back at the top take the head in your mouth and suck his glans, [silence], go deep on him, suck him tightly - [silence], Sherlock, I love sucking your cock. I want you inside me..."

Elle lifted her head off Sherlock and looked at him. "Sorry. I forgot to put it on pause when you tapped me. [Now they could hear her moaning softly on the recording as she slurped her mouth around him.] I was much too much into what you were doing to control it." She sighed, gently shook her head in a dismissive manner, and returned to listening to and following the instruction. Now the others knew how they had tried to do it: Elle signalling Sherlock to record or pause as she spoke or performed, tapping somewhere on him. No wonder he had failed to stay focused on his role!

"Slide your hand up his cock, use his foreskin to cover the head, then lick the head as you take it into your mouth again pushing the foreskin down. Ummm. Squeeze his shaft and twist your hand around him. Speed up your wrist action slightly. Repeat this action, increasing in speed if his body asks [silence]. Now slow down again and follow with your mouth. Umm. I wish I could talk with you in my mouth. Perhaps you should be describing this?"

"Leave me out of it! There's no way I could put into words what you're doing to me. I can hardly breathe, never mind string cohesive... ohh, shit. You're doing a bloody good job, believe me."

"You know I have said how I love your cock soft because I can take and suck more of you? ["Yes?"] Well I love you hard like this as well. Umm, this is impressive. How quickly do you think I can describe this and get you to the point of orgasm?"

"I don't know. I am getting pretty close already. How about you? Are you enjoying it?"

"What Sherlock? You have to ask? Call yourself a detective? Hah! You surely know I'm loving this. The only way you could be anymore perfect would be if you had two of these, and could put one in my mouth and the other inside me - at the same time." She obviously then did something extraordinary.

"Huh! Oh! Hey, you didn't describe that. That is dereliction of duty! Come on Elle. Describe what you are doing to me [silence]. If nothing else, it channels my thoughts. It also helps me know... whoa. Oh shit. Ahh. Oh, are either of your friends capable of doing that?" There was a long pause and a groan from her before Elle released him and replied.

"I doubt it. They were curious recently whether I thought it truly possible to go that deep. No, that one I won't describe. That, baby, was just for you."

"Thanks." Breathless recognition of an ultimately 'throaty' moment.

"Where was I? Oh yes. Take him again into your mouth, run your tongue all the way around his rim. Kiss his glans again. Go as deep as you dare down him, let your mouth follow your hand... React to him. Let his impulses guide the speed... [more silence]. Wow, like that is it? John's right, you are a randy sod... Just you wait until this is done, I'm gonna ride you 'til your balls fall off..." A lot more slurping - and then humming, from him - could be heard, with gasps intermittently joining the vocalisation of this very intimate pastime. "Ummm. I love licking and sucking you. God Sherlock, I could eat you alive."

"I thought you were. Ooo. Aah. Elle..?" His voice had become a soft whisper, a plea nearly.

"Ummm. You think I don't know? I know how close you are. Do you want me to stop, or will you have enough to come again if I take you all the way?"

"Don't you dare stop. I'll be ready for more when you are. Take me."

"OK girls, prepare yourselves for one of the world's most unique sensations..." There was no more talking but noises off of Sherlock groaning, Elle sucking deeply and the ultimate reaction from both of them as his climax finished the recording with a flourish. She swallowed loudly. "Umm, wow, I love it when you come in my mouth."

"Are you sure you don't like the taste? You take me all the way often enough?"

"Not particularly, as I said before, but I love the sensation... and your pre-cum is delicious. Essence of Sherlock!"

Lying on the bed six friends gasped for air. Sherlock and Elle's experience had been a near perfect replica of the recorded version. It appeared, however, the others had witnessed their conclusion so must have finished earlier. The soft whirring stopped with a click, Em had turned off the dictaphone. "Wow. That was unbelievable!" She spoke the thoughts of everyone. Ben stretched down and pulled the sheet up over all six of them. Not for warmth, but feeling a little privacy, even after this scenario, might be required.

"Now THAT was a blow job. Shit. You were right Sherlock. If they had all felt like that I'd have loved them and Kaye's and my tally would be topping well over a hundred. Jeez." Tony seemed ready to wax lyrical on the subject for anyone to listen. "Kaye, Em, did you enjoy it?" Both of them answered Tony in the affirmative, Em adding she believed Elle could probably teach an old granny to suck eggs and get an orgasm from it. Elle just smiled at her friend, content to rest her head on Sherlock's chest, listening as his heart rate began to calm. Ben's comment was addressed directly at the detective, saying just what a lucky guy he was, and hoped he appreciated it. Sherlock, eyes closed, grinned his acknowledgement of what was true and gently nodded.

Kaye slipped out from under the sheet, pulled her pyjama top on, then picked up a pile of cast off nightwear and placed it on the bed. Ben and Tony exited off the bed too, putting on their bottoms, Sherlock finally doing the same. He grabbed his shirt and threw it on, left unbuttoned, Elle remaking claim on the other half of her nightwear. Sherlock headed for her shower to cool off.

"Shall we prop all the doors open? It's so airless tonight." Em stretched out, now the only one in her bed. Ben returned from his shower, picking up the pillows and replacing them, climbing back on the bed beside her.

"Good idea. See you in the morning." Elle left the room for her shower. It was still running, Sherlock had just stepped out, hair dry but body sprinkled with droplets. He did not dry, just walked into her room and relaxed on the bed, duvet thrown open, no light on, a small breeze trying to make its presence felt. Elle joined him, using a wooden door stop to keep it wide, saying she had done the same with the wet room door as well. She too was wet except her hair. Moonlight pierced the crack in the curtain she had left for whatever air was available, the celestial light reflecting in the shower droplets on Sherlock's torso and legs. Elle climbed on the bed, licking water off him wherever she found it, her mouth yet again finding his softened phallus and she took him wholly in, sucking and caressing him.

He pulled her off him. "You know what you need for doing that?" 

"No idea. What DO I need Sherlock?" she teased.

"This!" In seconds his tongue was inside, her legs forced wide. Revenge time! He nibbled her clitoris and licked it feverishly, sucking her labia, tantalising her to dampness, she jolting frenetically, contracting around his tongue as it performed an erotic recital. He was hot. Now he was going to play with her. "A" he said, his bottom lip grazing her inner lips; "B", the vibration of the letter against her clitoris. "C", air expelled, blowing gently in her; "D", a blunt chin movement as his teeth clenched and he nuzzled his mouth on her opening. "E" - ineffectual and passed quickly, "F", more soft air sizzled around her most erogenous zone. "G", verbally useless, but as it screwed up his face his nose nuzzled her clit, her favourite letter so far. "H" - his pronunciation was perfect, the 'tch' sound vibrating her labia. "I" - his open mouth engaged her inner lips as he formed the sound, "J" quickly following, reversing his lip shape on her. 

"K" - sharp movement of his lips against her inner ones, her senses preparing her for the next letter... "L"... His tongue left the confines of his own mouth, sliding inside her, licking upwards... "L". A pleasure to beheld. "L" - again he said it, and she knew he was abandoning the rest of the alphabet as comprehensively as she was abandoning control. "L" - proof her name began with the most provocative letter in language; the letter she was known by.

He smiled, clicked and winked as their eyes sighted each other as he raised his body and pushed his cock deeply inside her. They were both highly vocal now. Maybe it was knowing the doors were all wide and the others could potentially hear them, or maybe it was because the whole dictaphone scenario had turned them both on excessively but, whatever the reason, they were maniacal, grunting and groaning like wild animals. Change in position, Sherlock moved to kneeling, Elle sat up, kissed him, sucking his bottom lip, sliding her legs over his. Lying down again she anchored her feet and bucked her hips, pulsing his cock as he leaned back, braced, uncontrolled and enjoying her attention. 

They flattened their bodies and rolled, her on top straddling his thighs, riding him hard, his fingers in her hair, pulling her down against him, breasts to chests, engaging her lips with gentle then passionate kisses.

Evidently none of their friends were ready for sleep either. Elle could hear music. Tony then shouted for it to be turned up, obviously the other pairs were now in separate rooms. The song, 'Poison' by Alice Cooper, finished and Tony made his second, but more unsubtle request. "Put something on with a driving beat we can fuck to." Selection made by Em or Ben, Def Leppard's 'Animal' was next; great fun, however it was not enough, nowhere near enough for any couple. Gasps for something faster came from all male voices, a profound malevolency in Sherlock's tone as he wallowed in this new experience of sex to music.

"Girls, I love you both, hope we all survive this. Here's one of Elle's favourite songs" Em called to the other rooms as she made what was going to be everyone's final selection: 'Waterfront' by Simple Minds. They wanted something with a driving beat. This was more than that, and the extended version as well. Now on top Sherlock matched the rhythm, determined to see it through to the end, drilling away, crescendoing as the song did, releasing his seed explosively, groaning, totally exhausted, collapsing his weight fully on Elle, asleep immediately. Elle sighed deeply. Her body was throbbing, heart pounding, on top of her a male physique sticky with sweat: contentment personified. She smiled as sleep smothered her.

After expending that much energy thoughts of further love making overnight was far from anyone's mind, but there was one thing they had not banked upon on this sultry summer night; rain: a lot of rain. The smell of Kew's fragrant and refreshed air drifted in through all the open windows. Still pitch black outside, the downpour pummelled the streets. Elle gasped awake, her barometric-sensitive body feeling the change in pressure as the rain's rhythm pulsed her heart and loins into life.

Sherlock stirred. He could feel her heart thumping in her breast against him. He smiled, eyes remaining closed. He was still inside her and, thanks to her reaction to the weather, now also refuelled. He sighed, lifted his sticky chest off hers to stretch out his shoulders and arms, lowered his torso again so his mouth parked close to her ear. "Want to 'sing in the rain'?" he whispered, now conscious of the open doors.

"Hey, that was nearly reference to a film title. You are not so naive about film as you appear."

"Actually, I am, but 'Singing in the Rain' is my Mother's favourite film so even I've heard of that one." He started to kiss her, sliding rather than pounding his body within her. "Do you want me?"

"Yes. Gently. Slowly. Make love to me." So different from her request thirteen hours earlier, he continued to kiss her. He rolled the pair so he was on his back. His hand took firm hold of her hips and coordinated the gentle, slow, passionate moves from underneath, she occasionally lifting her torso away from his, pushing deeply on him, moaning pleasurably, then relinquishing to lying on top of him, guided by his loins. As her lips collected his she slipped her tongue deep into his mouth, then withdrew it followed by her licking his lips, then more kissing again. Her hands found either side of his face, her lips pressing even more on his as she continued grinding her pelvis against his, whimpering, sobbing nearly to the stiffness of his cock pressing within her. Her body shook with orgasm, her breathing shortening yet again.

Sherlock stroked her back, comforting her, resigning his control, hitting his own pinnacle. His hand moved to stroke her head as it settled on his shoulder, sighed deeply and slept peacefully again. He drifted off slightly later than she, he content to have her lying squarely on top of him, where she belonged he thought, in his arms, unaware their friends had all been awake, listening.


	38. Developing relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detective is framed before returning to work and Baker Street

Just after 9:30 the six friends met again at the table. All had showered, dressed and looked reasonably refreshed. A plethora of cereals were on the table to choose from, plus a recognised pitcher, full of milk. Coffee, tea, croissants and crumpets were also options. Talk was immediately of the night before. Em confessed never having enjoyed giving a blow job so much and, though her friend had said it was likely to be a 'Dummies how to' for Sherlock, assured Elle her technique worked on other men equally well.

Kaye thanked Sherlock for failing to pause the dictaphone because she felt the intimacies spoken between the two deliverers, as well as all the noises off, were so stimulating they enjoyed the whole experience much more than they probably would had it just been the given instructions. Elle smiled. He really was special: even when Sherlock made errors they turned out for the better. Tony apologised for his crudeness regarding the music but stated he felt so turned on having received the best oral of his life there was no way he was ready to sleep when the group first splintered into their own rooms, and was pleased for the addition of music, also hoping it would drown out some of the racket coming from somewhere else. He winked towards Elle and Sherlock.

Sherlock's open confession was admitting he enjoyed the music himself having never followed a musical pattern before for sex. He looked brazenly at Elle and suggested he would like to hear more of her 'favourite songs'. Em immediately asked whether anyone else had heard the rain overnight, grinning at Elle, knowing her usual response to heavy downpours. All Elle would say was it had woken her. There was no way she was confessing to another lively session, brought on because of the weather, and the physicality of the man still inside her...

Each couple had things they wanted to do with the day. Elle started by sorting some clothes for Baker Street. Now she and Sherlock were a two-home couple there was going to be some duplication of essentials required, to save the work of her tote, and shoulder and back for that matter. The rest of their day was going to be dedicated to a more pleasurable task. For Elle and Sherlock there was relief the overnight rain had freshened the air as they were intending to spend some considerable time in her attic space darkroom. It was always hot up there. 

Locking the darkroom door Elle removed the film from the camera and went through the step by step procedure of turning negatives into positives, creating proofs, and giving Sherlock the final veto on which picture of him she should add to her wall. She knew which she would have really liked, one of the latter ones, but they were really far too explicit for publicly hanging, even over the bed where it was taken. After much deliberation they chose one of the first group of pictures: full length, beautifully posed, Elle capturing Sherlock's most enigmatic smile and damp body, his semi-erection visible under sheeting but in a flattering rather than overtly sexual pose.

Selecting the right negative she used her enlarger to make the photo match the others on her wall for size, adding a little discreet shading with her hands as her late father had taught her years before, transforming a good photo into a piece of art worthy of wall space. Sherlock was very flattered she wanted to add his portrait to the collection. It would be the only one on any of the walls, including the lounge and stairs, which featured a person.

Elle's mobile pinged the arrival of a text. She read it, explaining to Sherlock it was from Em downstairs and lunch was ready. It meant they could go out and let the print dry fully before selecting a frame and mounting the photo for hanging. They put away all light-sensitive material and chemicals, Elle cleaned up, catalogued then locked away the negatives and proofs - definitely their eyes only - then the pair of them went down for lunch, via the wet room for loo and hand washing duties.

Lunch was an avocado salad with cold ham, plus a jug of Em's home-made lemonade, with lots of ice. Very nutritious and tasty, the three groups splintered yet again as Sherlock and Elle returned to the attic. Thankfully the print was dry enough to handle. Elle selected an already pre-made frame, centred the picture, cut and nailed it neatly, attached one half of a picture hanger to her frame, then they headed down into her bedroom with measuring tape, pencil, and tools to screw the other piece to the wall. Now there were four pictures to be viewed. It looked lovely, a proud Sherlock raised a smile.

"Wow" she said, "my flukes picture just got bumped down to second favourite."

"Not only is it now your favourite picture of the four, but it's also the easiest to recreate. How about seeing if we can pull off the same look, or possibly better, again? Forget the black sheet though!" Elle nodded as Sherlock turned and locked the door. This time they definitely did not want company.

She tried to remain calm but Elle knew that was unlikely; Sherlock was already stripped, lying on the bed, he had even got the damp look from the sweat of anticipation and heat, the sheet pulled up to his navel. Excluding his hair - now dry - there was only one other major difference, he was erect, fully erect. She peeled off her own clothes and joined him on the bed, kissing his navel and automatically heading downwards, licking his glistening glans.

"Oh, no, not now. Later maybe." Sherlock's breathless request needed no explanation. Elle moved upwards instead. Her lips kissed each of his nipples, a quick detour, she never could pass that mole on his throat however keen he was, up finally to his mouth, which she tasted and licked desirously as she lowered herself on him, kneeling over his hips. His eyes narrowed, his smile broadened and the slow release of a long sigh effervesced between his lips.

Gentle rocking movements, forward then back, Elle was fully controlling Sherlock for a change. He was so stimulated he was close to ecstasy very quickly. Her body clenched around him, she succumbed to a thrilling orgasm as she squeezed him so tightly within her. She lifted herself slightly, keeping him cocooned within her, but so she could lower her legs to be either side of his. His hands took hold of her hips as he pushed upwards as she pushed down. This was not going to be the long love making session she had hoped for. He was just too hot for that. 

He rolled the pair of them, he now over her. Sweat pouring from his forehead fell against her cheek as he looked into her eyes smiling, stealing a kiss gentle on her lips before invading her mouth with his tongue and commanding her body to surrender to him, which she did with pleasure. Powerfully and relentlessly he brought this session to closure, her whole being slave to his actions as they climaxed together, the ability to deep breathe now alien to both.

Tension leaving them they kissed and stroked each other. Love and passion oozed from every pore within the confines of the bed. Gently Sherlock moved himself off his girl, lying momentarily flat on his back before getting up and grabbing two robes, throwing hers on to the bed and putting his own on, holding hers for her to slide into before they headed for the wet room together. A very soapy shampoo and shower later the pair were nearly dry as they put their robes back on to return to the bedroom. They were met, just outside the wet room door by Ben, who was obviously about to knock, realising the bedroom was empty, and having already been up to the darkroom searching for them.

"One of you has just received a phone call downstairs. We thought you were in the darkroom?"

"Thanks Ben" Elle replied. "We had been, but have done what we wanted so have been and showered to cool off. We'll be back down shortly." Ben's eyes were suspicious of what he thought they may have been doing, but having seen the dishevelled state of her bed he was unsure what had happened where. Not being unnaturally observant like Sherlock, he had not noticed the addition of the new photo.

Damp haired but otherwise dry and dressed the lovers walked into the lounge smiling and animatedly talking, joining the other four, who were relaxing, doors wide, fresh air blowing through, drinking tea and coffee. Kaye offered the lovers a drink and they both requested coffee, black, two sugars. Sitting in the lounge with the other house mates Elle and Sherlock both picked up their phones to see which of them had received a call. Elle's phone had no missed calls or messages flagged, which meant...

"Lestrade." No text or voice message had been left. "Excuse me [Sherlock rose and walked away from the friends towards the kitchen, looking at Elle with an exasperated look as though knowing what he was about to hear.] Hello... Greg... You wanted me?... I'm not at Baker Street... No, we left my parents a few days ago... Where?... When do you need me?... [Elle walked over to him with her mobile in her outstretched hand, tapped Sherlock's arm and offered to ring a taxi. He nodded and her heart sank. Their break together was over.] I can be at Baker Street in an hour and a half. Do you want to meet me there?... OK. Cheers Greg." Sherlock pressed the end call option on his phone.

"Sorry to break up this happy party but I'm required in London." He said no more. Both he and Elle went up to the bedroom to collect together their luggage and a good proportion of Elle's wardrobe, including shoes, suits and blouses, for her new job starting the following week. They came downstairs about twenty minutes later, all ready to leave, both looking surprisingly disappointed. Sherlock had obviously enjoyed the freedom he felt with these friends; Elle, missing her house mates before she had even made it out the door. A series of kisses and hugs for both of the departing couple, plus good luck wishes for Elle for Monday, luggage loaded, they were off to Baker Street, Elle promising to stay in touch regularly via text and calls.

Mrs Hudson heard the key in the front door and stuck her head out of her apartment to investigate. Happy to see her tenants return she said hello, asked if they had a good break, and left them alone. Sherlock went into his bathroom for a full wet shave, changing into a shirt and suit. He would not need his long coat or scarf as it was officially summer and beautifully warm. They decided it would be simplest if Sherlock picked up dinner on his way home, rather than Elle plan to cook. A rattle on 221B's knocker and Elle and Sherlock parted for the first time in nearly ten days. Sherlock felt as though he had properly been on a holiday, though not strictly true, for the first time since reaching adulthood.

After hanging her clothes in one of Sherlock's wardrobes Elle went down to talk to Mrs Hudson, mainly to ask where she ordered their food from and also to see how she was and tell her how the meeting with the rest of the Holmes family had gone. The two women enjoyed their talk, Mrs Hudson placing a food order, requesting urgent delivery (a trick she used regularly) which was promised within the next three hours. This duly arrived and the women re-stocked the cupboards and fridge with fresh food.

After a pleasant evening talking with Mrs Hudson generally Elle returned to the flat, curled on the settee reading a book on her iPad when her phone alarmed an incoming text. Sherlock had finished his work with Lestrade and had picked up a Italian meal and was on his way home. It was just after 9:30pm. Sherlock arrived and, having kissed her en route, went straight to his bedroom to throw on some casual clothes whilst Elle laid the table, poured some drinks, and dished up the meal on to warmed plates.

A light dinner and glass of wine later and Sherlock was twitching again like he used to when he did not have a case to solve. When asked what was the matter he made it clear he wanted to be back in his own bed with her so pots were hurriedly cleared and a glass of ice cold water between them taken into the bedroom and they headed for bed comparatively early and were preparing for what was going to be an extensive love making session.

By the hand Sherlock led Elle into the bathroom. Their clothes finished up in a mixed pile on the floor. Shower on cool, Elle's hair loose they shampooed then washed themselves. Elle felt he was purposefully keeping his hands off her. As they got out of the cubicle her hand stretched for a towel but Sherlock pulled her away, leading her, dripping, into their room. The duvet was thrown off the bed, no pillows either, he placed her on the bed, knelt between her feet, lifted her left leg and started sucking inelegantly on her toes, licking the water droplets off her body as he adventured up her calf and along the inside of her thigh. Placing a most delicate kiss on her pubic bone - that area was obviously going to be returned to later - he licked the palm of her left hand, up her arm, even her armpit was introduced to his tongue. 

A genteel smile broke his lips and concentration infinitesimally as he now kissed her left breast, ran his tongue under the fullness of her bosom to her sternum, then across to suckle her other nipple. He moved further up the bed and planted a full, rich, passionate kiss on her lips, staring at her firmly closed eyes, admiring the pleasured smile there on her face, then rolled her over, squeezing water out of her hair to pool on her back. He licked this up too, then ran a finger then his tongue down her spine, pushed her bum cheeks apart and rimmed her anal canal gently, causing the sharpest intake of breath. He then rolled her again, repeating the earlier delicate kiss on her pubic bone before sliding his tongue onto her clitoris and dancing his tongue on and around it. Another sharp intake of breath and a soft moan from her reiterated her pleasure as she adjusted her pelvic angle involuntarily.

As his tongue slipped between her labia, penetrating her inner walls she groaned with pleasure, running her fingers through his wet hair, stroking his face, trying to keep her mind away from where he was and what he was doing, at least for the time being. He was far too good at this now! She presumed he would take her close then let her relax again before engaging in full sex, but she presumed wrongly. He had no intention of letting her relax out of this again. Intuitively flicking between inside her and her clitoris he generated such a frenzy of sexual intensity within her she had no chance to undo his manipulations. As her body tensioned from her shoulders downwards, finding it impossible not to squeeze her legs around his neck, she hit her climactic wall as her body succumbed to his faultless attention. Her prize was his, she ejaculated, creamy against his lips.

Every part of her body felt as though it was on fire; her heart was trying to escape her ribcage; her lungs incapable of drawing enough air to breathe efficiently; a muscle in her throat she had noticed once before being made love to by Sherlock, John and Mary, was now trying to exit the boundaries of her skin. She felt wonderfully loved, highly sensitised and slightly tortured. She now had one aim: her brain was engaged and participating in this session and she was beginning to mull over just what she was going to do to him to reap revenge. For now she was happy to just wallow in his skilled exploitation of her body as his started to slide next to her as he returned to eye level.

Giddy from his attentions finally she opened her eyes. His were now closed, but a look of exaltation and victory scribed across his face was there for her to read. Though her hair was still very wet her body had unsurprisingly steamed dry from all his pleasuring. His form too was nearly dry, again, excluding his hair. She was about to wring water out of her hair on to his chest when she had an idea and she dripped water on him from the glass of icy liquid they had brought in with them. That got his attention! He looked at her, not really seeing, as she lapped the cold water off his physique and out his navel, then he closed his eyes again.

She ran the back of her index and middle fingers along the inside of his thigh, heading upwards towards his groin. As this stimulus triggered an involuntary lifting of his shaft her mouth was there to catch him. Having not had a hand touch him but finding himself receiving oral titillation excited him intensely. She began as she intended to go on. His genital area was going to get all her efforts: he had spent time wandering around her body but she was centring all her intentions in one place.

Gently and seductively she let the inside of her lower lip graze along his length, incorporating tickles and licks from her tongue when she reached the head. Long strokes again, concentrating the tip of her tongue all the way around his rim. A lick of her own lips and she opened her mouth widely and went down him, gripping him with her wetted lips, then a change of tack and pressure: a lighter stroke but with her teeth against his glans. He was alerted to this different sensation. Her touch was so delicate, yet just the fact she was using her teeth on his most sensitive skin sent a plague of butterflies diving down from his stomach to the area in question. Her teeth relinquished their touch and again the inside of her lower lip flirted with his erect phallus. Her hands stayed in contact with his body; her right on his left hip, her left on the inside of his left thigh, touching and stroking him.

Taking a deep breath she again saturated her lips then, adjusting her angle to him, she slipped her mouth down along his form as far as she could, still caressing him with her tongue. Sherlock sighed resignedly. Now her tongue was pressing him to the roof of her mouth and continuing the pressure, licking and stimulating him relentlessly. An open-mouthed groan expelled from him as she rubbed her tongue along his length while he was captive within her lips, now incorporating an even deeper hold on him, squeezing him, then rubbing her lip-shrouded teeth up and down him. 

His whole body began to shudder. He did not want her to take him all the way, but he also did not want to stop the diverse selection of superlative sensations he was feeling. A gasp and groan combined as all the muscles on his body became rigid and he released into her mouth, his cock twitching as it pulsed all the seed out of him into her throat. Elle was already in spasm herself, taking equal pleasure from pleasuring her man. She moved back up to his side, swallowed demonstrably, licking her lips, then lowered her mouth to his for a kiss of unparalleled intensity. She curled her right leg across his and wrapped her right arm across him also, stroking his hair as she caressed his lips with her own.

"Ho-ly shit!" Sherlock profaned. "You really know every way to tantalise me. Wow, that was good, sooo good."

"As was your insight into me. I have been to a playground before, but I don't think I have ever been one before!" For about ten minutes the lovers cuddled up to one another, lying in each other's arms, their fingers interlaced, their thumbs vying for dominance in a salacious and earthly erotic stroking battle.

"I think now it is time we put our differences aside and work together, or should I just say put our differences together." He grinned irreverently, flicking an eyebrow at her.

"Sounds a good idea to me, nothing on Earth would make me happier. I love you. No rush, when you feel ready Sherlock." Her right hand stroked his torso sensitively.

"Mentally I am ready now. Physically, I may need a hand... Give me yours [Elle offered it to him], no... I think, at this time, I would prefer your left." He smiled. She moved her form so she was lying on her right the other side of him and held out her left hand. He took it in his and wrapped her grip around his slightly softened phallus, sliding her hand very slowly up and down him. "I love your touch. Enable me." His words faded on a breath. He released his hand from hers.

She continued the speed he had started, keeping the grip the same, sliding her hand up and down him as blood flooded to his cock and it grew and stiffened in her grasp. She loved the feel of this transformation, something she had felt in her mouth many times but never actually witnessed on him before. He groaned shamelessly. He really did love her touch. So tempted to stimulate him orally again but listening to his breath she did not want to miss anything.

Now he was hard he wanted her to get him close before he was going to include her in this latest erotic session. He again placed his hand around hers, tightened her grip on him slightly and accelerated her movements. Far faster than anything she probably would have done without tuition, she kept the pace he set her whilst he pressed his hips and head even harder into the bed, leaving her hand alone on him. As his breath started to shorten his hand again gripped hers and slowed her down, loosening her grip but integrating slight twists in her wrist action. "Perfect." The word drifted out of his almost closed lips.

He rolled on to his side, moving her on to her back, as she released her hold on him, and placed his right hand heel on her pubic bone. Pressurising her form he moved his body slightly downwards so his index and middle fingers could stimulate her clitoris. He began stroking, but although this was very pleasurable to her she decided to educate him now. Increasing his pressure and lying his fingers flat she introduced him to a rubbing technique which electrified her even more.

As she began moaning to his touches his fingers diverted inside to ensure she was ready. More swollen than he believed he had ever previously felt her he took his weight on his arms and positioned himself over her. Her hand took hold of him and she guided him into her, him pushing his hips forward, sliding up and down inside her, nearly withdrawing then plunging back in, pressing himself further and further until their hip bones kissed together.

"When we were in the shower I expected us to be like this within minutes, but I would not swap the last hour or so for anything in the world." Sherlock's voice was calm but whispered. She noticed the thumping of his heartbeat, pounding against her breast, raising her awareness further of their bodies' closeness. Elle's heart was pounding too, equally loud. The two muscles were in syncopation. As his rise and fall started in earnest and sweat started dripping on to her from under his still dampened curly dark locks, him pushing himself into her, she realised she could feel both hearts simultaneously thumping against her ribcage. "Now I have no doubt my heart belongs to you" he said. Sherlock had noticed it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have enjoyed my story.
> 
> Please give me feedback so I can improve and get inspiration for future writing.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based upon the BBC's Sherlock TV series (2010 - present)


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